


The Three Lives of Seska

by Soquilii9



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8098174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soquilii9/pseuds/Soquilii9
Summary: She was born Cardassian. Why and how did Seska become a Bajoran Maquis?Based on Pathways by Jeri Taylor. Also references ST:Voy: Seasons 1-3.DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the characters and the premise behind Star Trek.May be the only completely referenced fan fic in the Star Trek genre.





	

 

 

**CHAPTER ONE**

** Stardate 2371 ** 1

****

The soft glow of the computer console starkly underlit Seska’s harsh Cardassian features as she studied the latest skirmish maneuvers between her adopted Kazon vessel and _Voyager_. Behind her, First Maje Jal Culluh’s agitated pacing was getting on her nerves. Despite her guidance, his command had suffered yet another ignominious defeat at the hands of Captain Janeway. The Maje’s ineptness, the Kazon Nistrim’s substandard technology, and the lack of backup from the other sects had all been the cause of their failures. Given complete autonomy, Seska knew she could drive them to victory; the problem with that lay in the Kazon’s male-dominant philosophy that women were fit for propagating the species - and nothing else.

 

Seska, highly skilled in Maquis tactics, created a computer model; a strategic counterattack relying on covert operations rather than on technical strengths, hoping it would please Culluh. It did not. ‘You’re saying we are not as advanced as they are…that we must resort to these methods in order to defeat a mere woman!’ he growled.

 

‘That _mere woman_ bests us at every turn, Maje. The Maquis were a smaller force, yet we had a better success rate than all of your Kazon ships combined!’ Seska retorted.

 

‘I will remind you that the moment you came on board my ship, you ceased to be a Maquis,’ said Culluh. ‘We fight like the Kazon we are! I may use a few of these Maquis tricks of yours, but I am _Maje_ of this vessel. _I_ will give the orders!’

 

Seska was goaded. ‘ _Your orders_ were the cause of our last defeat – because you wouldn’t do it my way.’

 

‘I will not have you speak to me in this manner! I will send you back to _Voyager_ if you continue to annoy me!’

 

‘Having me on your ship is your strongest advantage!’ she snapped.

 

He approached, menacingly. His tall head, topped with its fibrous, spongy hair, towered above her. His scaly eyelids, as eerily obsidian as a Cardassian’s, narrowed to slits over deep-set eyes. She backed away involuntarily, wondering if his usual backhand slap would follow. ‘We shall see,’ he snarled, pointing his finger at her. ‘For now it’s enough that I have you _and_ a few of your Maquis tactics. You will learn your place as a _woman_ – and so will Captain Janeway,’ pausing at the door to sneer contemptuously at her, he added, ‘and I _do_ have you, don’t I, Seska?’

 

_‘Yes_ , Maje,’ she simpered, placating him. Culluh turned without striking her and stalked out, while Seska breathed a sigh of relief. Aligning herself with the Kazon had been her only option for survival after being caught as a spy on _Voyager_. She missed the soft beds and plentiful food on the Federation starship, but there was still a chance she might yet have _Voyager_ as her own personal prize. Another item on her new agenda was one day ruling this sect of the Kazon. However, despite her attempts to advance this strange species with stolen technology, to mold them into a formidable force to take _Voyager_ , the Kazon persisted in blind stupidity.

 

For a moment, she imagined herself back on board the _Liberty_ 2, still under cover as a Bajoran and near Chakotay, whose baby she was now carrying. If only brute force had not been necessary to conceive it! As things stood between them now, Chakotay would certainly not have allowed the more desirable alternative, so she had stolen his DNA to impregnate herself; determined to have something of his, if not his heart. Those turbulent yet exciting days of living on the edge with him had been the best of all the extraordinary lives she had lived. _Stop dreaming_ , she told herself. _Those ties are cut forever. It all ended - just as it began - in the Maquis…_

**CHAPTER TWO**

**_THE PAST -_ ** ** Stardate 2369 ** 3

****

The Cardassian officer’s already stony countenance hardened; his corded neck curved forward as he scanned the dossier. The photograph in the upper left-hand corner of the screen seemed to corroborate this agent’s rather unsatisfactory record. Eyes by themselves were not merely visual organs; they revealed a great deal about the being that possessed them; such were the eyes of _Kattell_ 4. Many complaints were listed against her; more than any other agent, male or female under his command. All of like content - she consistently demanded things be done her way. Words such as _deceitful…untrustworthy…manipulative_ peppered the reports. _Balks at taking orders_. _Belligerent i_ _f crossed or challenged. Argumentative._ The Obsidian Order 5 did not tolerate one of these qualities; yet Kattell possessed all to a disturbing degree. Overbalancing this was her high level of intelligence with a vast store of tactical and technical knowledge, and great courage, which was probably why the Order retained her. Still, in his mind, an agent without discipline was a liability. _Incorrigible_ , he thought. _A waste of the time it took to train her._

He set the padd aside. Rubbing his scaled finger along his jutting chin, he calculated; balancing the risk of removing her completely from the Obsidian Order, classified information still locked in that defiant brain, versus keeping her in service under some semblance of control. Where could he place her to be less of a detriment to the Order? Better yet, how could he conveniently get rid of her with no risk to himself? A possible solution occurred to him. The door chimed; she had arrived. Gul6 Marratt7 assumed a stern countenance for the interview.

 

‘Enter!’ he growled. The agent sauntered in, insolence evident even in the way she walked, and halted before Gul Marratt’s massive desk. The silence grew marked as they coldly regarded each other.

 

She boldly took the initiative. ‘I assume you sent for me regarding my next assignment, Gul Marratt.’

 

‘Affirmative, Gil6. Intelligence.’

 

Her expression darkened. It was as she expected. ‘Intelligence _. Again_?! I want to kill Bajorans, and you keep sending me on _treasure hunts?_!’ she spat.

 

_She has just confirmed the reports,_ he thought. He smiled malevolently. ‘How very unfortunate that you should be again disappointed in your assignment, Gil. However,’ he said, gesturing with the dossier, ‘your… shall we say, _unique_ talents make you perfect for these types of assignments.’

 

‘I am willing to serve, of course, but it seems that my tactical knowledge alone would qualify me for a position on a Galor Class battle cruiser8. Yet the Order wastes me in this manner. My loyalty and dedication to Cardassia are well known.’

 

‘Yes, very well known,’ he said, mocking her, ‘and both will both serve you well in this particular operation. There is to be no further discussion. You will obey orders.’ With finality, he rose and spread his corded hands on his desk, staring down at her. ‘You leave for Bajor in five days. Our operatives tell us that a Bajoran dissident has contact with these ‘Maquis’ terrorists that the Federation can’t seem to get off our backs. They’re nothing but savage, Federation-born killers9. Your orders - and instructions how to find the Bajoran - are on this padd. Memorize and destroy it. I want an operative under cover on one of those terrorist ships sending me information.’ The Gul handed her the small device and as he waited for her to scan it, he tented his fingers, studying her. As she read, she paced slowly back and forth.

 

‘You want me to infiltrate a Maquis ship,’ she said incredulously. ‘Brilliant. And just how am I supposed to do that?’ She stopped pacing and gestured fiercely toward her face. ‘I’m obviously Cardassian!’

 

‘Your face and your body will have to be genetically altered - also, to an extent, your brain patterns.’

 

The breath left her lungs. Although certainly aware of these advanced techniques in Cardassian medicine, she did not anticipate having to undergo them.

 

‘You will carry a universal translator imbedded in your flesh. Psykomentic10 treatments will give you false memories suited to your cover identity,’ the Gul continued. ‘Should you be subjected to neural or telepathic scans, Bajoran patterns will be displayed. These treatments, minimally done, will suppress your true memories and personality - to a small extent. We can maximize this effect, but you must be able to relay information back to me. Were you to be given the maximum treatment, you wouldn’t recall your true identity. With your skills, the Maquis will only too glad to recruit you. Your code name will be…’ he consulted his padd. ‘ _Seska_.’

 

‘So the Order reserves the right to change my body as it sees fit?’

 

‘Your body, Gil, ceased to be yours the moment you swore allegiance to the Order.’

 

‘But what if I’m injured? A blood scan would reveal traces of Cardassian DNA.11’

 

‘Avoid having one performed,’ Gul Marratt advised, sternly.

 

Kattell set the padd down. ‘Sir, I must protest. I’m willing to serve the Order, but -.’

 

Gul Marratt, his face distended and shiny12, leaped out of his chair and was in her face in seconds. ‘ _You will do as you are ordered, Gil.’_

‘I want to annihilate the Bajoran race, not fight alongside them! I suggest you find another agent!’ she hissed.

 

The sudden force of the heel of his hand against her chin drove her backwards to the floor. ‘Now that I have your attention,’ Gul Marratt growled as he circled his desk and loomed over her. ‘Report to the medical practitioner immediately - he is a captured Bajoran who has been ordered to perform the necessary surgery - after which you will _look_ Bajoran and you will dress as a Bajoran, right down to the earring 13! We’re tracking a cargo ship on its way to Bajor which will give you passage. After you infiltrate the Maquis, send me regular reports by interspersing messages onto thermal emissions from the ship nacelles. Once I get all the information I need, you will be extracted and restored to your former identity. Is this in any way unclear?!’

 

She got to her feet. Pressing the back of her hand to her bruised and swelling chin, she nodded sullenly. ‘ _Yes_ , Gul.’

 

‘Then _go_!!’

 

She glared at him, but obeyed. After she had gone, Gul Marratt sat back in his chair, fuming. He would prolong her stay on whatever Maquis vessel would have her for as long as possible. If the information she relayed was significant, so much the better. If not, it was of no consequence. Mortality rates were very high among the Maquis. Sooner or later…

 

The padd containing her dossier was still clutched in his fist. He broke it in two against the arm of the chair.

 

**CHAPTER THREE**

Kattell, the Cardassian operative now known as Seska, stepped from the cargo ship onto Bajoran soil. At the first whiff of Bajoran air, she nearly retched. _I’ll never grow accustomed to this stench,_ she seethed inwardly. It wasn’t just the smell of the people that turned her stomach; she gagged each time she looked in a reflective surface. The ridiculously ridged nose accented the wide, upswept eyebrows and her wide-set eyes, and the dangling earring irritated her unbearably. She batted at it, gritting her teeth. She must assume the role; fulfill this mission. If she failed, Gul Marratt would skin her like a Bolian 14 \- damn him.

 

It was late in the day; she must locate her contact before night fell. There would be no place for her to stay if she was unsuccessful, and spending a cold night in the forest wasn’t a viable option. However, the hardscrabble, thrown-together village appeared even less hospitable. Unbelievable poverty was evident in the shelters constructed mostly of junk, sticks and rags, and in the starved eyes of the children who clustered around her. Small hands reached up, begging. Her first instinct was to avoid them. This was the next generation of Bajoran freedom fighters destined to be crushed by future Cardassians, if the war continued - but something about the complete vulnerability of these tiny, innocent creatures, as they were now, touched her, for she was once as frightened and abandoned as they.

 

She knelt and drew her only ration pack from her pocket, dividing it evenly among the children, who snatched at their portions like wild things. _So much for dinner_ , she thought wryly.

 

Disentangling herself from the still-ravenous brood, she accosted an old man who wandered aimlessly by. ‘I’m visiting from Dahkur15,’ said to him. ‘I need a place to stay.’

 

The old man, bent with age and his own troubles, ignored her. Further on, she asked the same of two other villagers; a tall Bajoran of indeterminate years overheard her and came forward. ‘What is it that you want?’ he asked.

 

‘I need a place to stay,’ said Seska, quoting her directives. ‘My uncle in Dahkur said there is someone here who gives shelter, for a price.’

 

‘Were you given a name?’ asked the man, suspiciously.

 

‘No - I’m afraid not.’

 

‘You say your uncle - in Dahkur? I know quite a few people there. Who is your uncle?’

 

Seska dropped her head, allowing a few tears to flow. ‘He was my last relative. He is dead now.’ Enacting her role well, she was very convincing, and the young man’s face softened as he studied her. ‘Laren has been known to take certain people in from time to time,’ he said, relenting. ‘Perhaps she can help you. Go to the last dwelling on the right. Ask for Ro.’

 

_Damn Marratt, he could have supplied a name._ Nodding her thanks, Seska followed the path to the outer edge of the village. This dwelling was better constructed than most, with a stone-like exterior and a fairly good roof. She knocked at the door. A tall, angular woman with dark, cropped hair and a belligerent expression answered the summons. ‘Yes?’ she asked, brusquely.

 

Seska hesitated a moment. _These damned backward Bajoran names_ 16 _\- should she ask for the family or given name?_ ‘I’m looking for Laren 17.’ she said, finally.

 

‘And who are you?’ the woman stepped outside her door and confronted her. Her manner was intimidating, even to an undercover Cardassian.

 

‘I’m visiting. Someone in the village told me you sometimes provide accommodations, for a price,’ Seska answered. ‘I need a place to stay tonight.’

 

‘You’re not from this village.’

 

‘No, I’m from Dahkur. I’m an engineer, but as you know, there is no work, so I’ve been traveling, trying to locate what’s left of my family,’ Seska said. ‘I thought they might be here but as yet I haven’t found them.’

 

In spite of herself, Laren was touched, but careful not to show it. ‘Well…we’re all scattered to the four winds,’ she admitted. ‘What’s your name?’

 

‘Seska.’

 

‘Given or family name?’

 

‘That’s it – just Seska.’

 

Laren eyed her suspiciously. ‘That’s not a proper Bajoran name.’

 

‘But it’s mine,’ Seska challenged. _She was being thrown off balance by flawed directives, even to her assigned name. What was Marratt trying to do? And why?_

 

‘I allow no Cardassian supporters past my door,’ Laren warned.

 

‘Then I should be acceptable to you.’

 

Laren studied her for a long moment. ‘All right, come in. I’ll give you accommodations – just for tonight. It will cost you two credits18. Have you dined?’

 

Seska thought of the ravenous gaggle of children and shook her head.

 

‘Make that three credits and I’ll prepare something.’

 

Over a sparse dinner, the innocuous talk turned to the Cardassian conflict, as most talk did these days, wherever one or more Bajorans congregated. Seska, alluding to her lost family and her fervent wish to avenge them, commanded Laren’s full attention as she spun a tale of how the Cardassians had slowly tortured her parents to death, and how she had been unable to find any trace of her young siblings. Laren listened intently, measuring every word as Seska expressed an intense desire to eradicate the Cardassian race, in a voice that thrummed with hate. Laren’s manner became slightly more civil as she responded. She herself spoke with passion of the Cardassian occupation; how that cruel race had decimated the once-powerful and advanced Bajoran civilization; how their senseless attacks had wrought havoc on other worlds; and how the protection of the rights of abandoned colonists in the demilitarized zone was paramount.

 

‘If the people of Bajor could only organize; fight back!’ exclaimed Seska. ‘There must be _some_ way to defend ourselves against the Cardassians!’

 

‘Since when do Bajorans have the resources to fight anyone? We’re too beaten down,’ Laren declared.

 

‘So - we’re to become nothing but _Poluku_ 19 – is that it?

 

Laren deliberated. Seska, despite her odd name, seemed to be genuinely motivated, and had, judging from what she said, engineering skills - always sorely needed. Yet there was something else about her - Laren couldn’t quite put her finger on just what it was. Her story rang true; but out of the dozens of potential Maquis recruits Laren had interviewed, only a few were suitable. This one seemed right, but --. She decided to let the Russian handle it.

 

‘There are things to be done,’ said Laren, cryptically. ‘Tomorrow we’ll go to the next village. Someone there will want to meet you.’

 

‘What things? Who?’ asked Seska.

 

‘Never mind that now,’ Laren said, sharply. ‘Tomorrow. Get some sleep. You’ll need it.’

 

**CHAPTER FOUR**

In the dark hours of the morning, Seska rose stiffly from the pallet on the floor where she had spent an uncomfortable night; _accommodations for three credits_ apparently didn’t include a proper bed, or sufficient food. Last night’s dinner had left her still famished, and only a morsel of breakfast had been laid out for the two of them. Laren was preparing to leave immediately afterward. She handed Seska a container of water and a small lunch. Seska was beginning to realize that, as a potential member of the Maquis, life was about to become fairly uncomfortable.

 

‘Hurry up. We have five kilometers20 to walk,’ Laren informed her. ‘I could not arrange transportation so we must leave now to escape the heat.’ Seska, whose Cardassian physiology tolerated heat21 well – in fact, relished it – had since learned that the transformation to Bajoran physiology had greatly diminished that tolerance. She groaned inwardly, but hurriedly finished her meager meal and prepared to follow Laren.

 

Conversation lagged as the two women trudged under the blazing sun. The only time Laren ventured a comment was when Seska took too many sips from her water container. ‘Better make it last. We’re not even halfway there, and I’m not sharing mine with you.’

 

‘I’m not asking you to,’ Seska retorted. Under her breath, she muttered an obscure Cardassian curse: _to be done with this miserable trip and this disagreeable companion!_ The afternoon wore on with only two short rest stops. Seska mopped her brow with a damp sleeve and ventured to ask how much further. Laren pointed silently over the next hill. At the rise, the next village came into view, nearly as ramshackle as the first. The two women descended the hill, following a narrow trail soon bordered by a hodgepodge of dwellings and establishments. Pausing before what appeared to be a saloon 22 or inn, Laren led the way inside, past rough patrons who seemed interested in nothing but their ale, to a small room in the back. She tapped the padd of a security system in the wall and the entryway opened. Laren moved back to allow Seska to enter alone.

 

‘The person I’m to meet is here?’ asked Seska, surprised.

 

‘Yes.’ Laren turned to leave.

 

‘How will I know --?’

 

‘There is only one person within.’

 

‘Aren’t you coming?’

 

‘This is your interview – not mine,’ Laren said, impatiently. ‘I suggest you make a good impression.’ She stared at Seska a moment then turned and left without another word.

 

Seska entered, cautiously stepping forward into the darkness. From the street, she wouldn’t have guessed that this structure was large enough to accommodate this long, dark corridor which gradually sloped downward. The ambient temperature grew much cooler and Seska realized that the corridor dipped well below the surface of the ground. Slowly moving forward in the muted light, she came to a dead end. A sensor light went on and an audible click sounded, opening a portal into a dimly lit room.

 

‘Come in,’ said a lightly accented, female voice. The owner of the voice, a tall woman, apparently Terran, lit a small torch. A candle now bathed a small tabletop in meager light. When Seska’s eyes adjusted, she could make out two chairs at each end of the table. The woman was motioning for her visitor to be seated.

 

‘ _Oo-sa deet-sa_ 23 _-_ sit down,’ she repeated in Standard24 dialect, which, thanks to her imbedded universal translator, Seska readily understood. She silently took the proffered seat. The candle light flickered over the beautifully delicate features of a woman practically devoid of coloring, with impossibly pale hair and skin, and light gray eyes.

 

‘Ale?’ asked the woman, politely.

 

‘Yes. Thank you.’

 

Sveta25 set a tall beaker in front of her visitor while Seska waited in silence. She sipped it slowly, savoring the cold brew as much as the ambient chill of the underground room, especially after the blazing heat of her recent journey. Her body temperature slowly returned to a state that felt less like fever. One day, when she was herself again21, she would again feel comfortable with heat, but for now this chill was delicious.

‘My name is Sveta. And you are?’

 

‘I am called Seska.’

 

Sveta merely smiled in a friendly manner, frankly scrutinizing Seska. ‘You already have a point in your favor,’ said the woman, after many minutes.

 

Seska took another sip before answering. ‘Which is?’

 

‘You are thrifty with words.’

 

‘I’d rather wait until you tell me why I’m here. Ro Laren didn’t exactly fill me in.’

 

‘She wasn’t supposed to. Tell me, though, why you think you were brought here.’

 

‘I can only guess.’ Seska paused, considering. ‘Laren is not very likeable. In fact, she’s a petaQ26, as the Klingons say…’

 

Sveta chuckled, nodding.

 

‘…and what extremely little we have in common is probably the reason I’m here.’ Seska lifted the beaker to her lips again. She set it down and met the woman’s pale eyes directly. ‘We both seem to have an overwhelming hatred of Cardassians.’

 

Sveta leaned back in her chair. She studied Seska openly, seeming to gauge every expression, every nuance. ‘Why? What have Cardassians ever done to you?’

 

‘They have done enough. If I could annihilate all of them, I would.’ Seska volunteered no more information, but her expression spoke volumes.

 

‘Tell me what you would do with a Cardassian were one to appear before you at this moment,’ said Sveta.

 

_Actually, what would_ you _do_ , thought Seska, facetiously. This charade was almost funny. Aloud, she answered, ‘Nothing. I’m not armed. Cardassians have rarely been defeated hand to hand. Their very skin is armored. Unarmed, I would probably die. Quite painfully, from what I hear.’

 

‘You are correct. But _hypothetically_ , let’s say you _are_ armed. You have, say -’ she turned and opened a compartment. Withdrawing a large knife, she slid it swiftly across the table. ‘- this dagger, for instance.’

 

Seska stopped its skittering with a practiced hand. For an instant the temptation to use it was hard to resist, even though this woman was obviously not Bajoran, but the knife’s reflective surface mirrored her altered features and reminded her who and how she was.

 

‘Well,’ Seska began, expertly wielding the knife, ‘Cardassians have a strong, corded exterior, protected further by the armor they wear. To use a dagger, you must get as close as you can. You must insert the knife beneath the chin, at the juncture of the neck, and thrust upward. However, this is a worst case scenario. There are much more efficient ways of killing a Cardassian.’

 

‘Yes, I’m sure there are. And in so doing, you would have both the Cardassian Union and United Federation of Planets after you like the proverbial _duck on a junebug_.’

 

At Seska’s puzzled expression, Sveta amended, ‘That’s a Terran expression…North American continent, I believe. I, myself, am Terran, from a country called Russia.’

 

Seska nodded, and Sveta again grew serious. ‘The treaty between those two governing agencies forbids retaliation - despite the fact that the Cardassians won’t hold up their end of the bargain.’

 

‘I know,’ said Seska. ‘Tell me, then, what’s the solution?’

 

‘There are a few who would kill the Cardassian as you suggested. Not many - only those who go their own way within the organization and make things difficult for the rest of us. Speaking for myself, however - I, and most of the others, would _not_ kill him 27 \- unless it was absolutely vital to our survival. We have other, more discreet methods of encouraging his departure from our space - subtle methods - such as drugging his drink - sabotaging his ships - choking him with isotane gas - and when necessary, stealing anything of his we can get our hands on. We don’t like the latter - but it’s either that or deal with the black market28, which, as you can imagine, is expensive.’

 

Seska’s patience was thinning rapidly. She was growing tired of the charade. She quaffed the rest of the ale in one long gulp. ‘Just who, exactly, are the _others_ you keep referring to?’ she asked outright.

 

‘I am the leader of small band of paramilitary freedom fighters. Surely you’ve heard of the Maquis.’

 

‘Very little. Not much information is circling about.’

 

‘That’s understandable. We haven’t grown to full strength yet - probably not yet thought of as a force to be reckoned with. In time, however, we hope to grow in number and garner more attention - even to make a significant impact on Cardassia. The name _Maquis_ is the same as that of a resistance force, from a country called France, during a great conflict on the Terran home world some 500 years ago. To a great extent, the Maquis of that day helped the allies and hindered the enemy forces, so we adopted their name.’ Sveta poured another ale for Seska and one for herself. Seska waited for her to continue.

 

‘When the lines were redrawn by the Treaty of 237029, many settlers chose to stay on their home worlds, even if under Cardassian rule. At the same time, the Cardassian government officially pledged to leave those Federation colonists alone. As it is with most treaties, this one isn’t working. The Union is constantly harassing these people, trying to force them to move. The military stages raids, poisons wells and food replicators - and rape is not unheard of. There have been many suspicious deaths - and just as many unambiguous ones.’ Sveta shook her head regretfully. ‘Perhaps the species once had redeeming qualities - they were said to be a spiritual, peaceful people30 \- but the military has changed the face of Cardassia. Their capacity for cruelty is as vast as the universe.’ As Sveta’s voice trailed off, in the glow of the candle, Seska caught the glint of a tear on her cheek. Sveta said simply, ‘they murdered my family. Only now, in the Maquis, have I found cause to live31.’

 

Seska remained silent, carefully betraying no emotion.

 

Sveta composed herself for a moment, then continued. ‘I have a very close friend; a man whose entire village was eradicated in a Cardassian attack not long ago. He not only lost his family, but everyone he had ever known - his entire village was decimated. The Cardassians used Thermalite32 weapons - his people were roasted alive. Nothing left but ashes.’

 

‘And you say you do not want to butcher every Cardassian ever born?! You want to use _subtle tactics_?!’

 

‘That’s just one of many instances that proves the treaty isn’t working. With Cardassia blatantly disregarding it and the Federation turning a blind eye and a deaf ear to those of us victimized by them, we must protect our own. On the Terran home world, there is an insect known as a bee. They possess a stinger and can inflict quite a painful wound, especially in great numbers. They live in a hive, coming out only to collect what they need to survive, but they can be a formidable enemy when stirred up. Such a swarm of bees can be more persuasive than one Thermalite weapon.’

 

Seska locked eyes with Sveta. ‘Then I want to be a part of the hive.’

 

‘That’s precisely why Laren brought you here. She is our scout. We need fresh recruits - lots of them. But - we had to ascertain your dedication. Laren sent me a report about you. You seemed a likely candidate, although somewhat impulsive. Your engineering skills are very badly needed.’ Sveta took the knife from Seska and replaced it in the compartment, then turned to face her directly.

 

‘Now - can you do things _our_ way? Can you sheathe the dagger and slip the man a laxative instead?’ Sveta grinned mischievously. ‘We want to discourage him; send him packing. We don’t necessarily want to annihilate him, much as we’d like to. That would only make the situation worse. Can you?’ she repeated.

 

‘Try me,’ replied Seska.

 

‘Very well. I’ll set up a rendezvous. But first I want to tell you more about my friend. I have not asked if you are hungry - I have some fresh Kiev Borscht. It is a very good Russian soup.’ Sveta set a bowl on the table before her guest.

 

Seska sipped the excellent soup while Sveta talked. ‘I met him at Starfleet Academy; we were both in our first year33. He was running laps, punishment for failing to heed an order. I don’t think he learned a damned thing from it, either,’ she continued, smiling. ‘He left Starfleet after only one year. Couldn’t take the discipline. But while he was there, we shared a wonderful friendship - and more.’ Sveta’s secret smile spoke volumes. There was no mistaking her meaning.

 

Seska smiled back. ‘Go on.’

 

‘He had an incredibly divergent way about him. In fact, he called himself a contrary. He said being born feet first made him that way; he always swam against the current. I tried to persuade him that Starfleet would give him everything he needed, if he just gave it a chance. As it turned out…I was wrong.’

 

Seska was fascinated, in spite of herself. ‘Wrong? In what way?’ she asked.

 

‘I served eight years in Starfleet - then I left, to marry. It’s a good thing I did, for after my husband and children were killed on Riva Prime, I was free to avenge them any way I could. Starfleet would never have condoned that.

 

‘Meanwhile, my friend had gone back to the Academy to try again. His family didn’t approve; they expected him to stay home and plant crops all his life; marry the girl next door; settle down. He wanted more than that. He finally graduated, and in the years following, he rose to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. He fully intended to remain with Starfleet, until his own tragedy occurred. He saw things my way after that.

 

‘I received a transmission from him; he wanted to join the Maquis, too. We needed strong people with leadership skills, and he was perfect for the job; as a former Starfleet officer, he had the tactical knowledge so badly needed. He’s dedicated; honest; fearless. The best of the best. Deliciously handsome, too, if I may say.

 

‘Long story short, I got him a small raider34 and had it refurbished for him; rebuilt engine, loaded with weaponry, good deflector shields. He’s rounding up crewmembers as we speak. He’ll want you, I’m sure, and I think you’ll like him. Meet him tomorrow night at these coordinates.’ The woman handed Seska a small padd. ‘His photo is in the padd so you’ll recognize him.

 

His name is Chakotay, from Trebus35. I am Sveta, from Russia. And you are Seska, from Bajor. Welcome to the Maquis.’ She offered her hand, and Seska extended hers. They clasped forearms across the table.

 

**CHAPTER FIVE**

She was _in_. Damned if she didn’t actually make it, despite a few stumbles along the way. She was certain that Marratt, his hatred of her all too obvious, had deliberately thrown a stone or two in her path, but she had maneuvered around them. She wished ardently that she could have seen her dossier. Conflicts between herself and her superiors had been a pattern in her career, true, and perhaps an unsatisfactory report or two had been sent to him, but she had always done her job - and more. Most of her superiors couldn’t see beyond their brow ridges when it came to the quality of her work. They themselves had taken the credit for her efforts, work that often went well beyond the call of duty. The question lurking in the back of her mind now was, just how loyal did she want to be to someone who was obviously trying to sabotage her?

 

She was tired. She shook such thoughts away for the present and ordered fresh fruit from a replicator set into the wall. The cot was well-padded with sufficient blankets, and the room cozy, if small. As a newly-inducted Maquis, Seska knew this would likely be her last comfortable accommodations. The room was hers for tonight, courtesy of Sveta; tomorrow she would rendezvous with the rebel Chakotay in a town on the other side of Bajor. Sveta had arranged passage on a local freighter for her. Seska had to admit liking Sveta, in spite of herself.

 

She took up the padd Sveta had given her and activated it, munching the fruit. There was considerable data on this man with the odd name. What species was he?

 

She tapped the photo icon, bringing up his likeness. He could have been Terran, except that, as Sveta had said, the dossier listed him as a native of Trebus. _Sveta wasn’t exaggerating_ , she thought to herself. _Deliciously handsome, indeed_. The stern countenance bespoke a highly intelligent man on whose broad shoulders the burden of command seemed to comfortably rest. Reading his profile, she envisioned a fierce warrior not unlike herself, or what she would have wished to be, had she not been ensnared in her current assignment. Yet there was something else behind those enigmatic eyes; loyalty, even compassion…but loneliness, and a terrible need. This man had lost all he held dear, yet he might still struggle to uphold a principle. Nevertheless, she felt that were it ever necessary, he would be capable of a great deal of violence - possibly capable of killing, if pushed too far. That kind of power appealed to her. She could use that.

 

Once on his ship, she would gain his trust and align with him; make him see her point of view. Once together, they would make a formidable team. She passed her fingers over the image: cropped black hair flecked with gray, full, sensuous lips, strong jaw - a rather weak forehead, but that strange marking at his temple gave it some character, at least. His dossier meant nothing to her at the moment, held as she was by the pull of those dark eyes. This assignment assumed less dreary proportions as she imagined herself with him, following him and ultimately having him follow her. The scope of what she could accomplish for Cardassia within the Maquis would then be immeasurable.

 

Seska checked through the bag of meager belongings she had brought with her. Sveta had given her a weapon and a communicator. There were rations, extra clothing and personal items. She gave the picture of Chakotay one final glance and slipped the padd into the bag. She brushed her long dark hair and braided it, and set her chronometer. Turning down her bed, she crawled wearily in. What a relief to sleep in an actual bed; she hoped it wouldn’t be her last. She stared at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to claim her. It was difficult, for she eagerly anticipated this rendezvous. She would arrive early.

 

**CHAPTER SIX**

Chakotay landed the _Liberty_ at Sveta’s designated coordinates, on the outskirts of the largest settlement on Bajor, near the ruins of an old outdoor amphitheater 36. Before the Cardassian invasion, it had been used for dance and other outdoor performances, and for the rituals honoring the Bajoran Prophets. Afterward, the Cardassians used it for the sadistic torture of anyone who crossed them. It was said that the ghosts of those horrifically executed Bajoran dissidents haunted every part of the once graceful structure.

 

Ordering the few members of his cell to remain on the ship, he walked the half kilometer to the amphitheater. At present, the _Liberty_ had no transporters, which normally would have been a necessity on any other ship and certainly vital to its operations. Sveta Korepanova, his old Academy classmate, had promised him the next transporter units available, if she had to steal them from Starfleet. He was confident they would soon be forthcoming, if not, he would steal them himself. Meanwhile, his budding cell was undermanned and Sveta had sent him here to pick up another recruit to bring into the fold. He had been given no information other than that the person was female, Bajoran and an engineer, and would be waiting here at this place, after the sun had set.

 

It was deep twilight now; he hoped he was not too late. Stepping into the arena, he fancied he could hear ghosts wailing out their grief. He halted, listening, every sense sharpened. It wasn’t ghostly wails, but a woman, singing. The song was unfamiliar to him, but the tone of it was not. He sensed longing, despair, determination in the melody; emotions that he readily understood. He silently listened until the last trill of her voice faded; the ancient columns echoed it back; then all was quiet. He drew closer, hand cautiously resting on his phaser. The last needle of light from the dying sun escaped the surrounding trees and backlit a humanoid form against the darkness. The woman was facing away from him, seemingly mesmerized by the sunset. When she turned to face him, as if she had known he was there all along, his breath caught in his throat. He had never seen a Bajoran woman of her like before. She reminded him of a graceful cat, lithe and somehow sinister, with eyes that seemed to bore right through him. She approached him, frank appraisal in those piercing eyes, and something else; bold aggression diminished somehow by a terrible need. She stopped only when their bodies actually touched. He could feel sensual heat radiating from her body.

 

‘You’re Chakotay,’ she said finally, and he nodded. ‘I’m Seska.’

 

Without warning, she enveloped him in strong arms, pressed the length of her body to his, and kissed him passionately. The kiss lengthened; her hands ran through his cropped hair while her tongue slipped in to join his. He was electrified. She was a wild animal in human form. The sky darkened and the scent of rain pervaded the air. The wind picked up and lightning flashed, but the two failed to heed it, locking together in a raging lust37.

 

Her hands were suddenly, frantically, all over him as his were on her. He winced as her strong hand cupped his swelling groin. With hot breath in their throats, both shed their clothes, flinging them down heedlessly, as if they must accomplish this act before the world ended. Chakotay fell to his knees and pulled her down with him onto the grassy sand of the amphitheater. Total darkness hid them well, with the exception of an occasional lightning bolt; had it revealed them to the Prophets themselves, they would have taken no notice. Had the lightning jabbed itself into the ground beside them, it would have been disregarded. He coupled with Seska immediately, with a driving force, a desperate longing and a determination. His passion matched hers in a fire that consumed them both.

 

Although each had achieved, it was over quickly. Lying together in sand that clung to their sweaty bodies, gasping for breath, neither spoke. Seska leaned over him, trailing her long dark hair across his chest, to study his darkly handsome face. They shared one last, spent kiss before the atmospheric torrents poured down on them.

 

The two grabbed their sodden clothing and ran for shelter, ducking under a stone overhang. Donning cold, wet garments was wretched, and with the release of sexual tension, Chakotay wanted nothing more than a cup of hot tea and a warm blanket. Seska was shivering, also. He held her close, grateful for her body warmth. She snuggled gratefully into his arms. ‘You’re incredible,’ she murmured.

 

He stroked her hair. Despite her warp speed maneuver, he felt immediately bonded to her; grateful to have discovered one being in the galaxy that perhaps at last, he might call his own.

 

‘We need to get to shelter. My ship is half a kilometer in that direction.’

 

‘Can’t we transport?’

 

He shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

 

‘You don’t have transporters?’ she asked, incredulously, shivering.

 

‘That’s why I said I was sorry,’ he grinned.

 

‘Well…it can’t be helped. Considering the weather, I suggest we run.’

 

‘Agreed,’ he grinned. Together they raced through sheets of stinging rain to the _Liberty_.

 

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Back on board his ship, Chakotay guided Seska on a brief tour of the _Liberty_ and introduced his new recruit to his small crew: Ayala and Ken Dalby, both Terrans; Lon Suder from Betazed and Chell, a Bolian. Suder looked her up and down with cool, appraising eyes. ‘It’s about time you brought a woman on board, Chakotay. Where’s she gonna sleep?’

 

Chakotay glared at him. ‘With _me_.’

 

Suder warily backed away. ‘Whatever you say, Chief.’

 

‘I’ve told you not to call me that, Suder.’

 

‘This is your cell? These _four_?’ Seska interrupted, looking down her nose at them.

 

‘ _Six_ , now.’ Chakotay amended. ‘We’ll be recruiting more as we go along. Many more will join us against the Cardassians!’

 

‘Damn right!’ shouted Dalby.

 

Chakotay eased the wet leather of his vest across his shoulders. ‘All right, Chell, we got what we came for - take us out of here. I think we have enough of a crew now to stage our first raid into Cardassian territory. Sveta notified me of a supply ship just across the Cardassian border. We have to move fast, because the borders are expanding faster than the cartographers can map. The coordinates are…‘

 

‘Wait!’ Seska interrupted. ‘You can’t venture into Cardassian territory alone! Aren’t there any more ships?’

 

‘Just how many ships do you think the Maquis have, Seska?’ asked Suder softly. The enormous dark irises of his species bored into her, making her uneasy.

 

‘Our objective is not to take on the Cardassian Union,’ Chakotay reminded her. ‘Sveta explained how the Maquis operate, didn’t she? A twig here, a twig there; all of a sudden you’ve got a bonfire?’ he grinned.

 

‘Of course,’ she said, ‘but without transporters…’

 

‘You don’t need transporters to confound an enemy, and that’s our main objective,’ Ayala interjected. ‘Meanwhile, we have to make do with what we can steal or build, and the Maquis need supplies. The important thing right now is that we _act_!’

 

‘The _Liberty_ isn’t exactly what you’d call new…she’s nearly 40 years old 38 …and she lacks some amenities,’ Dalby admitted, ‘but she’s loaded with weaponry. We have strong shields and good dilithium. I say we go.’

 

‘Besides,’ added Chakotay, ‘we may find the transporters we need on that supply ship. Ever think of that?’

 

‘But --‘

 

‘Do you want to be part of my cell or not, Seska?’ Chakotay asked, his voice suddenly challenging.

 

He and his crew awaited her answer; Suder smiling malevolently. It was going to be fun to watch the Chief handle this one. The ability to mold a group of dissidents to one purpose was a requirement for every Maquis leader; Chakotay was more than competent. Still, Suder, as a Betazed, sensed duplicity in Seska. Whatever abilities she might bring to the mix, however desperately she was needed, things were going to get interesting around here.

 

Discomfited, Seska immediately assumed a more submissive role, the better to benefit her own agenda. ‘Of course, Chakotay,’ she said meekly, looking up at him. ‘I’ll follow your orders. Just tell me what to do.’

 

‘All right then. _Stations, everyone_!’

 

 

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Chakotay’s first bold foray into Cardassian territory brought more supplies than his cell could have hoped for. The captured Cardassian crew lay drugged and bound in the cargo hold; they would be put off at the next habitable planet. Their ship was stripped of everything valuable and destroyed; no longer a tool for the Obsidian Order. Although disappointed that transporter components found on the Cardassian ship could not be integrated into the _Liberty,_ Chakotay was satisfied with the small shuttle which now sat in his cargo bay. There were weapons and provisions. The medical equipment and environmental suits were calibrated for Cardassian physiology but Seska’s varied skills were soon put to use adjusting them for Chakotay’s crew.

 

At the stronghold near the Badlands39, an area of space in the Demilitarized Zone between the Cardassian Union and Federation-held territories where plasma storms created a haven for the Maquis, extra guards were posted as a precaution, for Chakotay’s first mission as a Maquis Captain, snatching much-needed supplies from the very mouth of the enemy, was just cause for a celebration that ran well into the night. Seska, as the newest recruit, was praised for her work and welcomed into the fold. She possessively clung to Chakotay as everyone cheered him again and again, plying him with wine and clapping him on the back.

 

Despite her veiled agenda, Seska felt an attraction to these people, who had banded together to resist being overrun by their enemies. Brave and determined freedom fighters, their methods had already earned her respect. In turn, their absolute acceptance of her brought feelings to the surface she hadn’t known she possessed. She felt valued and appreciated; so much more than in her previous experiences and earlier, as a child on Cardassia. With parents so involved in the military themselves that they left her to be raised by servants who had largely ignored or abused her, she had grown up lonely and frightened, with nothing to truly call her own. She relished the camaraderie she was now experiencing, and she found herself acclimating to her undercover role more easily than she would have thought possible. One reason, she was sure, had his arm about her waist. As Chakotay maneuvered her through the crowd, the touch of his hand signaled a more private celebration would be held later, once they were alone, and which she greatly anticipated.

 

The whole aspect of this assignment wasn’t exactly what she had expected, either - not with so many species coming into the Maquis. She wasn’t completely surrounded by Bajorans; somehow the mixture of Klingons, Bolians, Vulcans and Terrans - not to mention a few other species less familiar - made it more palatable. As far as she knew, she was the only Cardassian here, which was ironically amusing. Her assignment assumed less distasteful proportions as time went by.

 

If camaraderie meant a lot to Seska, her burgeoning relationship with Chakotay meant more. Although they argued occasionally – his was a will as strong as her own – he clung to her increasingly as time went by. On some primal level, he needed her, as she needed him, though they never spoke of it. This new relationship in her life had evolved into something she never expected nor planned for, but welcomed.

 

In the months to follow, Chakotay’s cell took part in more than its share of skirmishes with the Cardassians. Seska proved herself a valuable asset on each run. Many colonists were liberated from beleaguered planets; many lives saved. Cardassian munitions were hijacked and ferried to Federation colonists. If it bothered Seska to strike against her own kind, she never betrayed that fact. No crewmember on board the _Liberty_ ever suspected that the ship carried a Cardassian spy - least of all its Captain.

 

In fact, Chakotay complimented her upon her performance one night when they managed to find a moment alone together. The planet where they had taken refuge was lush and green. Night sounds and smells were reminiscent of his home world, and two small moons shed little light, clothed as they were in thin, mottled billows that graced the sky. Muted moon shadow dappled pale leaf patterns across Seska’s face and his own as they strolled arm in arm among the trees.

 

‘You’re quite a woman, aren’t you, Seska? Able to wield a phaser as well as you can cook.’

 

She cast him a sidelong glance and a mischievous grin. ‘That’s a rather ancient attitude, wouldn’t you say?’

 

‘Maybe,’ he grinned back, ‘but you cook like my mother used to, and a man can’t help but value something like that.’

 

Seska grew serious. ‘That’s the first time you ever mentioned your family, Chakotay. Sveta told me about what happened. What were they like?’

 

He indicated the twin moons, brighter since they had shed their cloud cover. ‘My father would have said _the sisters are dancing tonight_ 40. He, like my mother, followed the old ways.’

 

‘What old ways?’

 

‘The ancient ways of my people. They revered all of nature; they had a connection with it. Only a few, like me, have really embraced the 24th century. My family was very traditional. They felt that if they evolved, they would lose more than they already had.’

 

An enormous log blocked their path. Chakotay lifted Seska onto it and settled himself beside her. She waited patiently for him to continue his story.

 

‘Long, long ago, our people lived on the Terran homeworld, in a place called Central America. I visited there with my father when I was fifteen. Our lands there and on two other continents to the north and south were held sacred by us, but were steadily being taken over by settlers of another race from other parts of that world.’

 

‘Why would they do that?’ asked Seska, curiously.

 

‘Our lands were valuable in their eyes - in a different way than what was valuable in ours. There was a saying that when these men first came to our land, we had the land and they held a sacred book. They taught us to pray with our eyes closed. When we opened them again, we held the sacred book and they had the land. Our people were betrayed time and again - we lost almost everything - so we left there forever and settled on Trebus.’

 

‘Where the Cardassians again betrayed you.’

 

He looked at her so piercingly she thought for a moment he might guess who she really was. But it was only his own emotion that caused his eyes to glitter. ‘Yes,’ he replied, sadly.

 

‘We will avenge them,’ she said simply.

 

Nothing she could have said would have gone to his heart like that one simple statement. ‘You and I make one hell of a team, Seska,’ he murmured, leaning over to kiss her.

 

**CHAPTER NINE**

With a steady influx of personnel and increasing support from unofficial sources, the Maquis continued to gain strength, expanding their operations to include larger targets. Numbered among the many who sympathized with their quest were Starfleet personnel, whose clandestine operations enabled the Maquis to evade almost every trap Starfleet laid for them outside the DMZ. Ironically, because of the treaty, neither Starfleet nor the Cardassian Union could send in sufficient armaments to eradicate them.

 

Over time, the Maquis developed new techniques to help evade detection and capture; Seska mastered them all. Chakotay’s ship was second to none in launching attacks against the Cardassians for harassment of civilians and arms shipping in the region. His exploits became known throughout the demilitarized zone41 and on each side of the constantly shifting borders.

 

Sveta ordered Chakotay’s cell to a small, rocky planet, uncharted, barely within the border of the demilitarized zone. It had no atmosphere and only a single, oblong, rocky satellite, which reflected no light to the surface and made this a perfect location for the armory which had been established there by the Cardassians. The Lissepians42, acting as intermediaries, acquired the weaponry, including heavy disruptors, which the Cardassians needed to arm their own colonists in the DMZ and shipped it to this location. It was a blatant breach of treaty, but neither the Federation nor Starfleet were aware of its existence - yet. Only Maquis scouts, desperate for weaponry for their own colonists and less bound by Federation policy had detected the stronghold weeks ago, and they had no qualms about taking it.

 

A camouflaged dome structure with an artificial environment had been erected to store the munitions and provide quarters for personnel. It was heavily guarded. Chakotay’s cell was ordered to shut down this key supplier to the Cardassian Union and their allies, and capture weaponry on a grand scale - enough to outfit his cell and keep other swiftly–forming Maquis cells solvent for months.

 

The _Liberty_ , now equipped with transporters, stashed itself behind the fragment of moon. Chakotay briefed his away team with a map of the installation; acquired when Sveta cut a deal for it with a Cardassian double agent.

 

‘Gerron, Tabor and Ayala, you’re with me. Our short-range sensors have pinpointed a narrow corridor, here, not covered by the guards. We’ll beam in with E-suits. No phasers; they’ll detect us - use laser torches if you have to. Seska will disguise our transporter signatures. Gerron and Tabor, set photon grenades at these two points - here and here. Once we crack the dome and they lose their oxygen, it’ll be easier to take control. If they want to survive as prisoners, fine. If they want to make it difficult, we’ll accommodate them.’

 

‘And after that?’ asked Gerron. Ridiculously young, yet highly skilled, Gerran was a Bajoran who had recently joined Chakotay’s cell.

 

‘We’ll see what they have, Gerron. Then we’ll borrow it.’ Chakotay grinned along with the crew. ‘Once we get what we need on board, Suder, send them a photon torpedo. If the bastards want to keep this installation they’ll have to completely rebuild it. That just might alert Starfleet to this location and what they’ve been doing. Understood?’

 

‘Yes, sir!’

 

‘I’m going with you,’ said Seska. ‘Mike can handle the transporters.’

 

‘No, you’re not. I need you in engineering, at the transporters, and I need Suder and Jonas at weapons.’ Chakotay shot Seska a look that quelled debate.

 

‘Dalby and Chell, you’re going to have your hands full keeping pace with this asteroid - it’s barely big enough to hide the ship.’

 

Ken Dalby, face set in stone, nodded. Chell’s round blue features couldn’t quite pull themselves into a stern expression - Chakotay had never met a Bolian who could - but he nodded vigorously. The team was ready. ‘Let’s go,’ Chakotay ordered.

 

**CHAPTER TEN**

In the small transporter room just off engineering, Seska stared at the padd in her hand, considering. Thwarted in her attempt to accompany the away team and sabotage the mission, she had instead recorded the details of the planned Maquis raid. She had only to code and imbed it in _Liberty’s_ thermal emissions, easily accessed from this location. _Liberty_ was a compact ship, making all such maneuvers simple, but that asset became a liability with the number of people now on board. It was difficult to get a moment alone. Conditions were favorable now, however, and the information valuable. The Cardassians below would be warned, killing the away team and sending ships after the other cells. The _Liberty_ would be fired upon, likely resulting in her death. Gul Marratt would be more than satisfied, she thought wryly, and her mission would be a success. However, she wasn’t ready to be a martyr just yet. She didn’t give a damn whether Gul Marratt was satisfied or not. And there was yet another reason for her hesitation: _Chakotay._

The door behind her slid open. She swiftly tapped the padd off and turned around. ‘Oh, hello, Mike,’ she said, cursing under her breath. Her window of opportunity just slid half shut. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at weapons?’

 

‘Aren’t you supposed to be manning the transporter?’ he countered. ‘I’m just taking a break. What’s that?’ he asked, indicating the padd.

 

‘A recipe for biscuits,’ she replied, smiling innocently. Jonas smiled back. From the moment he joined the cell, this sneaky little man frequently bothered her. In all likelihood, he was attracted to her and unsure if he should take advantage of the situation, now that the Chief was out of the way, but he didn’t move or speak. He just kept staring at her. Seska, irritated, broke the spell.

 

‘This is just a private letter, Mike,’ she assured him. ‘Don’t worry about the transporter, I’m on it. I think you’d better man your post, don’t you?’

 

He backed away, nodding. ‘Maybe I’ll see you later, Seska.’ Awkwardly, he turned and disappeared into the narrow corridor.

 

‘Don’t count on it,’ she whispered. Michael Jonas tested her patience these days. He was one of the reasons it was becoming difficult to find a moment alone. At the most inopportune times, she would glance up and there he’d be, waiting for her to notice him.

 

She dismissed him from her thoughts, tested the transporter and found it in order, ready for the away team. In the restored quiet, her thoughts returned to Chakotay. Never had anyone, of any species, so appealed to her. He had an inner strength that matched and even surpassed her own. Brave, fearless and utterly dependable, he was everything Sveta had said he was - and more. She could overlook his hatred of her species, even to watching him interrogate43 the Cardassians he captured, for despite Sveta’s policy, Chakotay wasn’t averse to pounding information out of them. He got what he needed without killing them, and if the occasional Cardassian proved uncooperative, he was thoroughly chastised and dumped on some M-class planet. Unlike many Maquis, Chakotay was not a murderer44. Most of the guerrilla warriors that made up his crew, however, unburdened by such lofty ethics, had no such scruples. Lon Suder was always willing to lend a hand; in fact, his enthusiasms frequently had to be restrained. He seemed to delight in the sheer act of killing45. Seska had felt uneasy in his presence since coming on board; she suspected he would have no aversion to wasting all of them if he got the urge. Chakotay had so far kept him under control; kept the others focused on their work.

 

Since her arrival, Seska’s duties, in addition to providing Chakotay with basic creature comforts, had kept her relatively in the background - an easy position from which to obtain his Maquis secrets. One day, when the time was right, she would send for a Cardassian ship to take the _Liberty_. These were not exactly her orders, but if she could deliver a former Starfleet officer to the Order, a commendation could very well be in store for her. He could be kept for interrogation purposes, since the Cardassians’ interest in Chakotay had increased 46 as word of his deeds spread. She didn’t savor the idea, but one day, she knew she would have to betray him.

 

But not now.

 

That decision was reinforced by a loud transmission: _‘Seska! Three to beam up!’_

_Three?_ She worked the controls feverishly, anxiously waiting to see which three of the away team she was retrieving. Gerron, Tabor and Ayala materialized. Chakotay was not among them.

 

‘What did you fools do? _Leave_ him down there?!’

 

Ayala stepped heavily off the transporter pad, flinging off his helmet. ‘Back off, Seska. You know we wouldn’t leave the Chief.’

 

‘Then what happened?!’

 

‘It was a set-up. The bastards got him. We couldn’t get to him in time.’ Gerron said. He and Tabor were battered and filthy, but relatively uninjured.

 

‘Tell me!’ Seska demanded.

 

‘It’s like they knew we were coming -‘

 

‘Never mind that now - get to the point!’ shouted Seska.

 

‘That’s what I’m telling you -‘ Ayala pressed the back of his hand to a wound on his temple. ‘It was a set-up, like Gerron said. We got bad information - the map wasn’t accurate, either. It was a rat’s maze in there. We finally located an outside wall to set up one enhanced photon grenade47. Chakotay and Tabor stood guard in separate sections. Tabor got to the beam-out coordinates but Chakotay didn’t make it. We heard him yelling for us to get the hell out.’

 

‘Go on!’

 

‘The Cards rushed us but we dematerialized in time. He’s probably already dead.’

 

‘Idiot, Cardassians don’t kill prisoners right away; you should know that. Run a scan, Dalby!’ Seska ordered.

 

‘There’s got some sort of dampening field; I can’t get a lock on him. The dome’s leaking oxygen - fast. At least the grenade went off,’ Dalby reported.’

 

‘I’m going down there!’ she snapped. ‘Give me one of the environmental suits!’

 

‘You need help, Seska. I’ll go with you.’

 

Seska turned. The soft voice belonged to Suder. Unnerved by this Machiavellian man, she had avoided him whenever she could up to now - but he was an exceptionally efficient killer. She just might need him.

 

She nodded. After suiting up, she and Suder stepped onto the transporter pad.

 

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

In the confusion and aftermath of the Maquis raid, three of the seven Cardassians attended harshly to their captive while the others scrambled to effect damage control. Chakotay lay sprawled on the floor where the Cardassians had forced him down. Interrogation of their prisoner would have to wait until they donned breathing apparatuses and initiated interior shields to preserve their meager air supply. A subspace message went out for a rescue ship. After they had stabilized their situation they turned their attention back to Chakotay, tearing off his E-suit and lashing him to bulkhead. One Cardassian tightened the straps across his chest, compressing the broken ribs and making it still harder for him to breathe. The hated reptilian face, distorted by the face mask, was inches from his.

 

‘You were caught trying to raid our armory. Were you and your friends going hunting, perhaps?’ asked the Cardassian, softly. The exaggerated, gentle courtesy was a ploy, Chakotay knew, a technique to confuse and break those they interrogated. The reality was pain, straps biting into his flesh and his burning lungs. If they couldn’t break him now, they would imbed pain receptors under his skin and torture him to death. Slowly.

 

Chakotay nodded, grimacing. It hurt too much to pull enough air in to speak - not that there was much air, anyway.

 

‘Such a shame they abandoned you here. We didn’t get a chance to speak to them. There was no need to stage a break-in and damage our installation; we would have been happy to trade with you - for a fair price, of course. This is a supply base, after all. But of course you knew that.’ The Cardassian smiled maliciously.

 

_Of course_ , Chakotay thought. Unflinching, he held the Cardassian’s gaze.

‘We know who you are, Maquis terrorist. Are you surprised? Your reputation precedes you. It’s been interesting to see who would capture you first - Starfleet, or - us.’

 

Sveta couldn’t have deliberately set him up; that was simply not an option. He trusted her implicitly. The double agent did, and he must survive to warn her. The crew couldn’t have known, either. It was becoming hard to focus his eyes on this hated enemy. The Cardassian had activated a small instrument which now administered, sent stinging electric shocks every few seconds to varying places on Chakotay’s body. He steeled himself against the fiery sensations.

 

‘Although you have succeeded in damaging our installation, a ship is on its way to retrieve us until it can be repaired. Your mission has unfortunately failed.’ The Cardassian drew nearer, whispering in Chakotay’s ear. ‘You will, of course, accompany us back to Cardassia, where you will be our - guest. What a shame your friends will not be able to join you.’ He drew closer. ‘Where _are_ your friends, anyway?’

 

Ignoring the pain and with what little strength he possessed, Chakotay had filled his lungs with as much of the fetid air as he could, and his mouth with blood and fluids. He spat these at the Cardassian, gaining satisfaction from the coated mask, the disgusted expression behind it, and the distance that now separated them.

 

He didn’t enjoy it for long. The Cardassian’s gloved fist ripped his cheek in a furious backhand blow. Blackness descended; only the straps held him erect. Lack of oxygen now turned his skin a dusky purple.

 

With the ship and its crew undetected behind the orbiting rock, Seska and Suder had materialized a short distance from the ruined dome and now stealthily moved into position. A sudden plasma explosion and simultaneous phaser rifle fire took out the interior shields entirely, decimating most of the Cardassian soldiers in the process. Seska swiftly assisted Chakotay as Suder coldly and methodically, one by one, assassinated the survivors. Suder returned presently, spattered from head to foot with brown Cardassian blood48. Together they hauled Chakotay to the beam-out coordinates. At Seska’s command, the _Liberty_ shot into space. A coded subspace message to Sveta advised that the mission had failed. With sufficient air, Chakotay’s color soon returned to normal, but he was seriously injured.

 

‘He needs a Doctor - we’ll have to take him to the stronghold. Lay in a course!’ Seska ordered, and the crew obeyed.

 

At top speed, the stronghold near the Badlands was still three days away. Fearful that Chakotay might not survive, Seska plied her considerable skills to stabilize him. The medical supplies and equipment on board were ample and she was successful in regenerating the crushed ribs. Under the influence of a hypospray, he was sleeping now, as was everyone but Ayala, who had the bridge. Seska crept to the engine room. In minutes, her first transmission to Gul Marratt was sent, imbedded in the thermal emissions from the small ship’s warp nacelles. It would be the last transmission she would ever send - and it was a lie.

 

Torn between Gul Marratt and her love for Chakotay, Seska tipped the scales in Chakotay’s favor. To Marratt, she was expendable. If she was to be seen as such within the Order, the best course for survival seemed to be at Chakotay’s side. In making this momentous decision, there was no turning back. She must remain Seska; no longer the Cardassian woman called Kattell. Gul Marratt, lacking any further communication from her, would likely assume her dead, or lost in the Badlands.

 

Living in the guise of a Bajoran for the rest of her life would not have been her choice in order to remain near Chakotay, but it had become a necessity, and eventually, she would become more and more accustomed to it. As for her agenda - someone, somewhere, might someday be interested in the knowledge she had acquired. She no longer needed to live the duplicity. With the abandonment of her mission; her defection from her homeworld, Seska had cast her lot with the resistance. She would be Seska, Bajoran Maquis, at the side of Chakotay, aiding him in his quest - until something better came along.

 

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Time spent at the stronghold was never of long duration; it was safer among the stars. As soon as Chakotay could move about, he ordered the _Liberty_ away. His urgent message to Sveta had gone out immediately. Duly warned, she withdrew all contact with the double agent. Codes were changed and bases transferred. A covert subspace message had been sent, piggybacked onto the transmissions of a freighter bound for Cardassia, to expose him. The Obsidian order would deal with him in a way that made both Sveta and Chakotay smile.

 

He felt better on board his own ship, in the vastness of space. Those who pursued him would grow weary of the chase, for _Liberty’s_ warp signature had been duplicated and stored in probes deposited in several sectors. For a while, at least, he had thwarted all but one pursuer: Seska. True, she had taken excellent care of him during his brief convalescence, but he felt increasingly smothered by her. Her interactions with the other members of his crew had also grown problematic in past weeks. What was worse, he and she now seemed to be engaged in an ongoing battle of wills. Since coming on board, she had constantly questioned his strategy and his methods. It was a situation that demanded attention, but for now, despite his incomplete recovery, he was relieved to be returning to duty. After only a few hours, however, he delegated the bridge to Dalby, and repaired to his quarters.

 

‘It’ll take him a while. He got pretty banged up,’ Ayala remarked to Jackson49, their newest recruit, who was scanning. ‘He just needs some rest.’

 

Jackson nodded. A few minutes later he considered calling Chakotay back. Something interesting was on long-range scans. ‘Look at this!’

 

He and Ayala were hunched over the monitor when Seska came back to the bridge. ‘What have you got?’ she demanded. The two men reluctantly backed away as Seska reviewed the scanner. ‘That’s a _Federation runabout 50!_’ Seska exclaimed.

 

‘Sure is,’ said Jackson.

 

‘They’re scanning _us_ ; you can bet on it,’ remarked Ayala. ‘Call Chak-‘

 

‘Take it out,’ Seska interrupted, eyes glittering. She had always wanted a Federation trophy. Here was a rare opportunity to inflict some real damage!

 

‘Take what out?’ Ayala asked, confused.

 

‘ _Fire_ _on the runabout_ , imbecile!’

 

‘Since when are _you_ in charge, Seska?!’ challenged Dalby, furiously.

 

Seska was in his face instantly. ‘Since I saved Chakotay’s life. He and I run this ship together. You don’t like it, join another cell. Now, take it out!’

 

_‘Belay that order!’_

The four spun around as Chakotay, standing braced against the bulkhead, one hand pressed to his side, confronted his crew. **_‘I’m_** in command here, Seska. Everyone _stand down_. We are _not_ firing on a Federation vessel!’

 

‘If we don’t fire on them, they’ll fire on us!’ Seska protested.

 

‘That’s why we’re taking evasive action. Dalby, get us out of here!’

 

Dalby obediently turned the ship on its side just in time to avoid a forward phaser blast. The _Liberty_ far surpassed the runabout’s warp capability and they were soon out of danger. No doubt a galaxy class starship was within hailing range, however, and reports would go back to Starfleet about the genuine warp signature of a certain Maquis ship, but he wasn’t going to worry about that now. ‘Maintain course,’ Chakotay ordered. ‘Call me if anything else happens.’

 

‘Aye, sir.’

 

Chakotay sternly herded Seska into his quarters. He followed her in, slammed the door and locked it. Leaning against his bunk, he grabbed a hypospray and pressed it to his neck, relieving the searing pain. He stared at Seska, glowering.

 

She spoke first. ‘Why are you angry? You hate Starfleet as much as I do! I thought you’d be pleased!’

 

‘For one thing, I don’t hate the Federation enough to fire on a solitary runabout with half the firepower I’ve got, only to have it summon an entire fleet to come after us. For another, you’re not in charge here. I thought I made that clear.’

 

Invoking the same argument she had recently had with the crew, she protested, ‘But we’re together. Doesn’t that mean I have the same authority; the same responsibilities you do?’

 

‘ _No_. And if you think in that way, the fact that we’re together is going to complicate things - a _lot_. Understand this, Seska. Get this _straight_. I am in command of the _Liberty. Not you_.’

 

‘All right,’ she conceded, petulantly. ‘I’ll remember that.’

 

‘See that you _do_.’ He pressed the heel of his hand to his throbbing forehead.

 

Concerned, she approached him, tentatively. ‘You don’t look well, Chakotay. Lie down.’ She was reaching for his medicine bundle beneath the cot to hand it to him, when he stopped her. Taking her hands, he kissed her passionately as he eased her back down onto the cot.

 

This had become the pattern. After Chakotay and Seska clashed - all too frequently these days - they took their differences to his quarters, drawing secretive looks from the other crewmembers. Although Chakotay was well aware that the situation was potentially volatile, his need for her overruled that awareness. Since their first coupling, she had been as a powerful leech, obsessively attached to him, demanding his love and diverting his attention from his quest; from the _Liberty_. Sometimes she purposely picked quarrels because once his anger was spent, he would always take her afterward, as now. Their differences were somehow never settled, but it didn’t matter once his hands were upon her. Their relationship had become one of conflict - of primal hunger - and of need. Chakotay would soon come to realize that he could not properly lead his cell, Captain the _Liberty_ and maintain a relationship with Seska all at the same time. One day he would be forced to choose between surrendering his command or disbanding his cell altogether, to be with her. Each was unthinkable.

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

The last night raid of Chakotay’s cell had been successful with no injuries or loss of life – except one. Somewhere on the uninhabited planet was a deep pit, and in that pit, a Cardassian Nephrus51 snake, kept there against trespassers, had by now disgorged a Cardassian skeleton with a crushed skull.

 

Chakotay’s cell had grown to fifteen52 hardened, well-trained members by now. After learning that a rogue Cardassian ship had established a settlement in the demilitarized zone in clear violation of the Federation treaty, Chakotay swore to stop them. As usual, he and Seska were in conflict about what to do. She strongly recommended using a photon torpedo to wipe them out; he preferred saving the three torpedoes they had for a more urgent mission. She called him a coward; he refused to sink to their level. The argument raged for some time, but Chakotay prevailed. They would spike the perimeter of the camp with isotane canisters and ignite them, forcing the Cardassians out.

 

After placing the final canister to set off the chain reaction, he stepped through a booby trap, straight down into a Nephrus snake pit. He avoided the snake and managed to crawl out, only to engage in a hand-to-hand fight for his life with a Cardassian. He succeeded in bashing the man’s head against the rocks, after which he threw the body down to the snake. While the Cardassian had been trying just as hard to kill him, the outcome could not be ignored. In the eyes of Starfleet, an organization once revered by him, Chakotay was now not just a thief and an outlaw, but a murderer.

 

He said nothing of the incident to his crew after he beamed aboard, but directed them to a safe distance from the planet. The crew cheered - the isotane canisters had done their job; the mission was a success. No one could understand Chakotay’s grim silence.

 

That night, Seska came to him. He sat brooding, staring into the darkness. She hesitated, then placed a hand on his shoulder. He pulled her down onto his lap. Seeking a means of escape from his tortured thoughts, he held her, tenderly kissing her at first; but then he forcefully tore away her gown, burying his face in her warm softness. Surprised but not alarmed, she eased the vest from his shoulders and opened his shirt. As their breaths escalated, she straddled him, pressing him back into the chair. She held him there, dominant.

 

Their couplings had become as much a dance of strategy as the other aspects of their relationship - a contest to determine which was the more forceful. Although she seldom won - he always prevailed in the end - she enjoyed the battle, nonetheless. He prevailed now. He pushed her roughly onto the hard cot. With a hand in the middle of her back, he entered her, forcefully. She lay trapped beneath him, her face pressed into the bedding. He had never behaved this way; something was wrong. Something was driving him. Something was on his mind, and it wasn’t her. She tried to rise; he held her down. She protested; his labored breathing was her only answer. Finally, completely spent, he rolled off her and sat on the edge of the cot.

 

Subdued, she sat up. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

 

He shook his head, trying to still his breathing.

 

‘You can tell me,’ she insisted. She lifted his hand and cupped it around her breast; he pulled it away. His breathing had slowed; he made to get up. ‘I’ve got to check on the bridge,’ he said abruptly, pulling on his clothes. With no explanation, he left.

 

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Things changed between them. Chakotay seemed to move in a daze53; unfocused, unable to function. He refused to confide in Seska, or to anyone. She quizzed the crewmembers, but they either didn’t know or didn’t want to discuss it with her. Perhaps they felt as Chakotay did - that he couldn’t Captain the ship and continue being with her. Secretly, she held most of them in contempt. They were necessary only for ship functions; the relationship between herself and Chakotay was no concern of theirs.

 

After a few more days, Chakotay ordered a respite from their guerrilla activities. They would remain for a time at one of several secret strongholds which the Maquis, in the strength of their growing numbers, had established on several planets bordering the Badlands. He shut himself in his quarters for days on end. Seska, unable to understand his despair, pushed him, trying to draw him out. She endeavored to rub his shoulders; he waved her away. She prepared meals; they went uneaten. She attempted intimacy; this was the most difficult of all, for he turned coldly from her as if they had never met. He was embroiled in apathy and she could not understand why.

 

Slowly, he came to grips with his situation. Nothing could be done about the man he had killed; it would have to haunt him like the loss of his people; his Starfleet career and the principles he had once so diligently upheld. He would go forward on his chosen path, doing what he thought was right. In order to do that, changes would have to be made. He knew within his heart that while he loved Seska, he could not continue with her. Too much was at stake. He must focus on what was most important now; to carry it through, to see it done - by whatever means might be necessary. If it meant decimating the Cardassian Union, he would see it done. A great weight lifted off his shoulders and he saw the clear path. He ended it the day she entered his quarters with a dinner tray she had taken great pains to prepare. He never even took the lid off the plate. In a voice at once firm but weary, he told her that after careful consideration, he felt it wasn’t right for them to continue their affair54. She challenged him, ready for yet another argument, but he cut her off.

 

‘It’s not possible to serve the cause and be with you at the same time – not in the way you want, or need. Not even in the way I want or need, Seska. It interferes with the work we’re doing. The situation is escalating; you know that. The Maquis are strong now; we have to use more drastic measures. That’s more important to me right now than us.’

 

There was an angry edge to his voice that she hadn’t heard directed at her before. He wasn’t going to give in, she realized. They both stood silent for a long moment.

 

‘You’ve been under a lot of stress lately; maybe it’s best we take a break. I understand that you might need some time to yourself. Just know that I’ll be here. When you’re feeling better -’ she left the sentence hanging.

 

He gave her a curt nod and handed the tray, untouched, back to her.

 

She took it and with a simpering smile, said, ’All you need is time, Chakotay.’

 

He turned his back to her, staring out the porthole. For a moment the Cardassian heart that beat within her surged with anger. With effort, she calmed herself. She paused at his door, looking back longingly at him, but he did not turn around. She stepped through the door and let it close behind her. In the corridor, she smiled to herself. He’d get over whatever insignificant thing was bothering him. He’d come back to her. She was certain of it.

 

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Seska answered Chakotay’s brief summons and reported to the small compartment within the _Liberty_ that served as sickbay. Her patient, seated on the cot, was a small woman with a dark complexion and a wild head of hair. Ridges along her forehead bespoke Klingon ancestry. Seska assumed her to be another recruit for Chakotay’s cell. Smiling, she opened a drawer and drew out a medical tricorder. The woman appeared to be in great pain; her hand supported her jaw and chin as if it was broken. Tricorder readings confirmed that it was.

 

‘Someone must have hit you quite a blow. Don’t try to talk until I can regenerate the bone,’ advised Seska. As she applied the osteogenic stimulator with gentle yet deft skill, Chakotay came in to ask about the patient. Seska learned then that this was not a recruit; that Mesler55, a Bolian pilot who frequently ferried arms to the Maquis, had been killed in an attack by Cardassians. B’Elanna Torres, the woman now in her care, had been the engineer on board the freighter. Chakotay’s Maquis had intervened before any more damage had been done.

 

As Torres expressed her gratitude to both of them, Chakotay placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Seska watched, possessively jealous, as he invited her to the celebration at the stronghold to celebrate the arrival of the new munitions. Seska could predict what would happen next: Chakotay would either bring her into the fold, or she would volunteer. She already saw the attraction in this Klingon’s eyes. Another woman on board - that was all the excuse Chakotay needed. This _B’Elanna Torres_ was going to be a threat to her position - even if Chakotay’s only communication to Seska these days pertained only to duty.

 

Sure enough, B’Elanna had asked Chakotay if he needed an engineer56 and he had all but rolled out the red carpet for her. Seska decided to have a talk with the Klingon; probe her about how much she cared about the Maquis and their cause, or if she was just in it for the job; what she thought about Chakotay. She misjudged B’Elanna, for the half-Mexican Klingon pulled no punches when it came to facing an issue. She also had an instinct about other women that Seska had underestimated. Turning squarely to Seska, she challenged her. ‘Are you in love with him?’ she asked outright.

 

Seska, momentarily off guard, looked away for a moment. She gathered herself and replied. ‘He’s in love with _me_. We’ve been together for a long time – more than a year.’

 

‘That surprises me,’ replied B’Elanna. ‘From what I’ve observed, he seems to treat you as a valued member of his crew, but he certainly doesn’t behave like a lover.’

 

‘For your information, B’Elanna, he and I don’t flaunt our relationship. We keep it secret. Otherwise, it creates tension among the crew.’

 

‘Well - he’s certainly a good actor, then - much better than you are, rejoined B’Elanna.

 

Seska blushed, but from somewhere behind her eyes, a strange fire glittered. B’Elanna backed off, wary of the Bajoran. ‘Don’t worry, Seska - what you and Chakotay do is your own business - it doesn’t interest me in the least. Now I suggest we get back to work.’

 

Seska relaxed. In due course, a close friendship would develop between the two women, and Seska would come to consider B’Elanna a close friend - just as long as she kept her distance from Chakotay.

 

Two new crewmembers - Tom Paris,57 and a dark Vulcan called Tuvok,58 were added to the cell in the next few weeks, and not long after that, the massive coherent tetryon beam59 hurled the _Liberty_ into the unknown darkness of the Delta Quadrant.

 

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

It had been several days since Chakotay gallantly sent the _Liberty_ into the massive hull of the Kazon mother ship before being yanked from the fire at the last second by _Voyager’s_ transporter. The intrepid little raider was now no more than a scattering of debris in space.

 

The members of the Maquis cell, already transferred to the Federation starship, had been indoctrinated and were reluctantly settling in. Captain Janeway had made a ship-wide announcement that the two crews were now to be considered one. A rough period of adjustment was expected as the Intrepid-class vessel turned for home, and Tuvok, the undercover spy on board the _Liberty_ , resumed his role on _Voyager_ as Security Officer, ready to deal with any insubordination that arose. As a precaution, he thought it prudent to begin constructing a holographic training program against a possible mutiny, for several of the Maquis crewmembers, particularly Chell, Dalby and Gerron – and possibly Seska – raised red flags in the Vulcan’s logical mind. Although Captain Janeway was optimistic, Tuvok intended to be prepared.

 

He was right to suspect Dalby, who frequently went his own way despite protocol. Some of the others were going to require harsher discipline. As for Seska - as a Vulcan, he would not have given credence to a gut feeling, but something about the woman troubled him.

 

Tuvok’s gut feeling would have been vindicated, for the first night on board, alone in the adequate but barren quarters issued her _,_ Seska finally lost control. The losses of Cardassia, now more than a lifetime away; of Chakotay, gone from her; and finally of the little Maquis ship, her only haven, now destroyed – all these coalesced. She set the lock on her door, disengaged her communicator and raged for hours, trashing her quarters in the process.

 

One thing remained over which she still had control: Chakotay would never know how much he had hurt her - she would never give him that satisfaction. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, but she determined to one day set in motion those plans she had once held, then abandoned, to betray him. It was going to be a long journey back to the Alpha Quadrant. An opportunity would present itself and when it did, she would take full advantage of it. He’d be sorry. She’d have him begging for his life.

 

Twelve sullen Maquis crewmembers, lined up the next morning to receive their new Starfleet uniforms and insignia, noted Seska’s swollen face, but no one commented on it; far too involved in their own woes to bother with hers. A few of them protested at being required to don the hated uniform; reluctantly acquiescing when told they would be assigned to the brig until they cooperated. Most were designated simple crewmen until such time as they proved themselves. B’Elanna was sent to Engineering, where it was rumored that Chakotay was planning to twist Janeway’s arm to make her Chief Engineer; odds were running high against that. Chakotay had been named First Officer in the privacy of the Captain’s ready room. Seska herself was surprised to receive a field commission of Ensign. No formal pip adorned her collar however; instead, there was a gold, oblong pin with a slanted bar within it60. _Just like Starfleet_ , she thought viciously, _to segregate us so_. Even Chakotay had received no pips – only the same gold, oblong pin as the rest of them, with three bars instead of one. It was degrading.

 

Chakotay’s job included crew assignments for everyone, Starfleet and Maquis alike, in an attempt to integrate them smoothly. Seska performed her assigned tasks satisfactorily, though sullenly. She straightened her quarters according to regulations, for frequent inspections. Even her hair had to be arranged according to regulations. _Regulations_! _Everything_ was done by the book and just so; neat and clean and pretty and nice. Below the dusted and shiny surface, however, chaos threatened - due to Janeway’s idiotic and completely incomprehensible decision to strand them here. No one had ever heard of the Ocampa before this. Why bother with them? So what if the Kazon made slaves of them? Who cared? At least _Voyager_ would have been back in the Alpha Quadrant by now. As it was, here in the unknown Delta Quadrant, the situation was becoming dire, with food and water so scarce.

 

Use of the replicators was now strictly rationed. Hunger began to haunt the immaculately run ship. The search for food took them to planets far off their course; substandard foodstuffs were gathered and transported on board a ship loaded with technology yet full of starving people, and this stupid Talaxian expected them to eat it. It was becoming intolerable. Something would have to be done. She sought out Michael Jonas frequently in those early days on _Voyager_ , both to commiserate and swap ideas, but no solution as yet had been found which would improve their situation. Jonas continued to be irritating with his poorly-concealed attraction for her, but she tolerated it - if only to have one ally in a ship of fools.

 

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

The latest search for food on one of the few M-class planets in this sector had yielded, according to Neelix, nothing more nutritious than a moldy, unappetizing root, which she refrained from gathering. However, near a system of caves, she discovered edible mushrooms, a rare delicacy, growing in abundance. As she diligently picked the best of them, she heard voices from within the cave. Venturing in, she discovered several Kazon men - the same species they had encountered in the struggle to rescue the Ocampa.

 

They accosted her, weapons drawn. Dropping her phaser, the bag of mushrooms, and her communicator, Seska raised her hands in surrender. If these Kazon didn’t kill her here and now, maybe they would be willing to talk. Janeway, the fool, had already made too many enemies out here. Powerful friends and allies was the only solution to their situation. The Kazon seemed to lack many things, despite having Trabe vessels, mainly the same level of technology that Voyager possessed. Where two needs met, deals could be struck. If she could get them interested, here at last, might be the solution she and Jonas had awaited.

 

‘Don’t worry, boys, I’m not here to fight you. Let’s talk. I think what I may have to say may interest you.’

 

‘I doubt that, _Federation,’_ one of them spat.

 

‘I may wear this uniform, but I assure you, I am most certainly _not_ a _Federation_. If you kill me, you’ll miss out on an opportunity.’ She smiled suggestively.

 

‘An opportunity for _what_?’

 

‘Lower your weapons and I’ll tell you.’

 

Their curiosity was getting the better of them. Reluctantly, they complied.

 

‘You know our situation. Captain Janeway made a big mistake stranding us in this quadrant,’ Seska continued. ‘We need friends out here – powerful friends.’ She paused, allowing them to think about it.

 

‘Continue!’

 

‘Very well - as you probably know, our ship is technologically far more advanced than yours. Just one small component from our ship could not only put you ahead fifty years, it could make you very powerful. Interested?’

 

The Kazon looked at each other. ‘I’d be willing to integrate it into your ship, of course. In return you could help us through this region of space. I know just the component you need.’

 

‘Tell us more.’

 

Seska did, and soon, a piece of Federation technology was transferred to the Kazon ship.

 

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Afterward, Seska returned to the cavern and waited. It was likely they were looking for her by now. Sure enough, Chakotay himself approached the opening to the cavern, using his tricorder to search for her. She stealthily observed him as he cautiously proceeded further into the cave, water dripping on his shoulders, dodging two Kazon who had remained behind. Seska stepped out from behind a massive rock, coming face to face with Chakotay’s drawn phaser. His quick reflexes prevented firing at her as Seska, her own phaser drawn, breathed a sigh of relief.61

‘Thank the Prophets!’

 

‘What are you doing here?’ asked Chakotay incredulously.

 

‘Mushrooms,’ she answered, showing him. ‘I wanted to teach Neelix how to make your favorite soup.’

 

‘I appreciate the thought – but we’ve gotta get out of here!’

 

They headed back down the natural corridor, suddenly coming face to face with the two Kazon, who attacked them. Chakotay returned fire and hit one of the two, just as a blast to his midsection took him down. The other fell from Seska’s phaser fire. Grabbing Chakotay and the bag of mushrooms, she helped him out of the cave and back up the hill to the beam-out coordinates.

 

She left him with the holographic Doctor and headed to the Mess Hall. The kitchen, formerly the Captain’s private dining room, hummed with activity as Neelix, Talaxian chef extraordinaire, bustled about his pots. Seska warily entered the rear door, tightly holding her bag of mushrooms.

 

‘What have you got there, Seska?’ asked Neelix, sprinkling spices hither and yon.

 

‘Mushrooms, Neelix…a really rare find. I thought you said the only thing edible on that planet was leola root.’

 

‘It is!’

 

‘Are you sure? These mushrooms match the edible varieties in the database.’

 

He stirred his bubbling pots with enthusiasm, looking at her incredulously. ‘Come on, Seska. Who wants to eat fungus when you have this lovely stewed leola root?’

 

‘It’s Chakotay’s favorite dish,’ said Seska firmly, as if that settled matters.

 

‘I’m sure it is. However, we can’t have one dish specified for only one person – not even the First Officer. Even he knows that. Let me have the mushrooms and I’ll clean them and mix them with this lovely leola stew – that way there will be more than enough for everyone.’

 

‘I did not pick these for everyone, Neelix. If you’ll lend me a pot I’ll fix them myself.’

 

Neelix paused, his usually cheerful face growing serious. ‘I can’t do that, Seska. I’ve been appointed in charge of the kitchen by Captain Janeway, and her orders stand. We can’t have everyone coming in here to cook. It would be chaos! Now, please give me the bag.’

 

_‘No!’_

A scuffle broke out between Seska and Neelix, drawing the attention of Kes, just on her way in, and a long-suffering Tuvok, attempting to have his lunch in peace in the corner.

 

‘Neelix, what’s going on?’ asked Kes. The little Talaxian had a death grip on one side of the bag and Seska an equally strong hold on the other. Neither would relax their position, and they both ignored Kes. At the approach of the Vulcan security officer however, both stood sheepishly aside. The bag of mushrooms fell to the floor. ‘Is there a problem, Ensign?’

 

Seska explained. Neelix offered his side of the story. Together they awaited the Vulcan’s logical judgment.

 

‘Mr. Neelix is correct. No one dish can be made for one person. You will have to turn the bag over to Mr. Neelix for him to use as he sees fit. He is in charge of the kitchen, not you.’

 

Seska fumed, but dared not say anything. She picked up the bag and handed it to Neelix, who, his dignity in tatters and his kitchen in disarray, ordered Seska out of his kitchen - permanently.

 

‘There is no need for histrionics, Mr. Neelix. Ensign Seska will not bother you again, now that she has been reminded of the rules.’ Tuvok looked pointedly at Seska who turned on her heel and headed to her quarters.

 

Still fuming, she paced back and forth, cursing Neelix and the rotten luck that had landed her in this intolerable situation. Finally, a chance for some real food, and it gets snatched away! She would do something about this. Sitting at her monitor, she hailed Michael Jonas and outlined her plan. He was all for it. He and a few of the Maquis crewmen more than willing to pull a coup, called Neelix asking for his help. Severe homesickness and loneliness was setting in, now that they realized just how far they were from home. They were unable to concentrate on their jobs, and in the best interests of the ship, could Neelix come at once? The little Talaxian, recognizing that his services as Morale Officer took precedence over those as cook, stuffed the bag of hard-won mushrooms into a cabinet, turned off his pots, locked the Mess Hall and immediately hurried to the scene of the crisis.

 

Seska and Jackson, hidden behind an alcove, watched him depart, then immediately broke into the Mess Hall and raided the food reserves. They took the mushrooms, spices and, after cracking Neelix’s replicator code, produced the necessary cream. Hurriedly, they prepared the soup, poured it into a lidded tureen, and vanished.

 

Seska took the tureen directly to Chakotay’s quarters, where he was still recuperating from the Kazon phaser fire. As she entered, he set down a stone carving he had been working on while he rested.

 

She set down spoons for them both. ‘I didn’t think I’d make it. Feeling better?62

 

‘Yeah. What have you got there?’ he asked, curiously.

 

With a flourish, she drew off the lid of the tureen. Chakotay’s face lit up as the delicate fragrance filled the room.

 

Feeling a bit of the old camaraderie between them, she smiled. ‘Real food.’

 

‘You got Neelix to make some mushroom soup!’ he enthused.

 

‘Are you kidding? The man wanted to stretch the mushrooms with just a little…’

 

‘Leola root,’ they said together, laughing.

 

As Chakotay savored the soup, Seska described how she and Neelix got into a tug of war over the bag of mushrooms. ‘It was the most ludicrous thing you’ve ever seen. Tuvok and Kes broke us up. Then Neelix threw me out of his kitchen.’

 

‘So how did you –?‘

 

‘Strictly a Maquis operation,’ she said in a hushed and teasing voice.

 

‘MMmmm,’ he smiled conspiratorially, sipping spoonful after spoonful, savoring each bite.

 

‘First, we arranged for a little morale crisis. A couple of our people came down with severe homesickness. Neelix, our devoted morale officer, responded to the call to cheer them up - and while they were all singing, Jackson and I broke into the kitchen.’

 

Chakotay’s dark features fell. The mood was shattered; the aura of comradeship lay in ruins. There was nothing in his manner of the lover or the fellow Maquis now. He was a Starfleet officer and he was all business. ‘You raided the food reserves?!’ he demanded to know.

 

Seska grew defensive. ‘Well - if he’s not going to give us a decent meal -’

 

Chakotay slapped the spoonful he had been about to eat back into the tureen - regretfully, but resolutely. ‘I can’t believe you did this!’

 

‘Well, it’s not like we’re hiding anything - I did bring soup straight to the First Officer, didn’t I.’

 

A bold statement, not a question - she expected him to come to her defense, to support her - like in the old days. Nonchalantly, she had continued to eat during which time all traces of Chakotay’s appetite had vanished.

 

‘Thanks for including me in a criminal conspiracy,’ he shot back.

 

The commline chirped; it was Neelix, already reporting the theft. ‘I’ll handle it! Chakotay out.’ He stared at her for a long minute. ‘Replicator privileges revoked for two days,’ he stated sternly. ‘Everyone - including me.’

 

‘They’re not going to do it,’ she said defiantly, finally setting her spoon down.

 

‘Then I’ll personally put them in the brig!’ Disgusted, he got up and went to the window.

 

‘You’d put me in the _brig_?’ Seska asked, incredulously. ‘After all we’ve been through?’ Rising, she followed him. Pressing her body to his back, she slid her hands over his chest. ‘The soup was worth losing the replicator privileges for two days,’ she purred, laying her head against his shoulder. ‘Admit it.’

 

‘That’s not the point,’ he said, wearily. Under her hands he was a statue; there was no response from him at all. In the old days when they quarreled, he would have turned to kiss her. She tried again, obliquely. ‘I _get_ the point. Can we make up now?’

 

He stepped away from her caress and turned to face her. She took his hands in hers. ‘Who else knows how to make your favorite soup like I do?’

 

‘No one,’ he admitted fondly, although the expression quickly faded, ‘but we agreed a long time ago that this wouldn’t work.’

 

Resignedly, defeated once again, she released his hands. In her face flickered disappointment and an awareness of exactly how futile her efforts had been. Still, she determined to have the last word.

 

‘Look around, Chakotay. There aren’t that many potential mates out here,’ she said disdainfully. At the door, she turned with one hand on her hip. ‘Of course if you’re not interested…I have had my eye on young Ensign Kim.’63

The door opened and she stepped into the corridor, inwardly seething.

 

That had been the last time she tried to rekindle what she and Chakotay had once had together. After the stolen component, a replicator, had been found on board the Kazon ship, an investigation had pointed to her as the perpetrator and a Cardassian to boot, damn that holographic Doctor _. ‘There's no way any childhood virus or Cardassian bone marrow transplant can explain away the genetic markers in your blood. You are Cardassian, Ensign_ ,’ he had said with that all-knowing smirk on his photonic face. Her plea that her only motive was to help Chakotay fell on deaf ears. She had spat her hatred at all of them - Chakotay, Janeway, the entire Federation - then had transferred via Computer Command XJL64 to the Kazon Nistrim ship - Culluh’s ship. She, the enemy, had cast her lot with the enemy.

 

Furiously, she immediately set to work with the meager Kazon medical array to reverse the surgery she had had to endure all those months ago. Luckily, it was easier reversed than generated; her own DNA seemed more than willing to cooperate, and little by little, she morphed from Bajoran back to Cardassian. Without proper medical help, it had not been easy and she never quite looked the same as before Gul Marratt sent her on a fool’s errand, but she felt more herself each day that passed. The corrugated nose vanished beneath the distinctive oval ridge; her collarbones similarly plated. Her hairline receded; the color returned to its natural auburn. Her eyes were again hooded in scaly ridges; her collarbones similarly plated. Her blood flowed hot in her veins again. The Bajoran brain patterns faded and she could think clearly; hate intensely. She was again a true Cardassian - determined now to bring Janeway to her knees. Chakotay, unless he could be persuaded to join her once again, would also soon know her power.

 

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

Chakotay’s last Maquis maneuver65, performed without Captain Janeway’s sanction to retrieve a stolen transporter module, placed him right in Seska’s hands.

 

The Kazon Nistrim raider which Seska now called home successfully lured _Voyager_ with a Federation beacon signal near an ionized hydrogen cloud. _Voyager’s_ sensor readings were effectively blocked. As soon as _Voyager_ drew within range, Maje Culluh, with Seska’s help, fired on it, opening a hole in the shields. The raider then sent a modified shuttle crashing into the hull at Cargo Bay Two. Several Kazon swarmed out, rerouted the ship’s power to Transporter Room Two nearby, and lifted a transporter module off the unit. They beamed off the ship and onto the Raider with the stolen module, crippling _Voyager’s_ ability to transport. When _Voyager_ attempted to lock a tractor beam onto the Nistrim vessel, Culluh hailed the ship.

 

‘Captain Janeway,’ he said with exaggerated courtesy and identified himself. ‘First Maje Culluh of the Kazon Nistrim.’

 

Seska listened to the exchange. Janeway soon responded that commanding, deep nasal tone that she hated so much. ‘I remember you, Culluh. That transporter module you just stole is specifically designed for our ship – you’ll never be able to integrate it into your systems.’

 

‘I’ve had some help updating our technology since we last met.’ Culluh motioned Seska over.

 

She watched Janeway’s eyes widen in surprise, feeling a surging satisfaction from the apprehension she saw reflected in them.

 

‘Seska!’

 

‘That’s right, Captain. As you can see, I’m in the process of restoring my Cardassian physiology.’ She provocatively leaned over Culluh’s shoulder. ‘Hello, Chakotay.’

 

‘I should have known you were involved,’ he said in a voice colder than space.

 

‘Yes, you should have - just like I knew you’d try to stop us with the tractor beam. You’ve always been so predictable,’ she jeered.

 

Seska set in motion a feedback loop to neutralize the tractor emitter on _Voyager,_ releasing the Raider, and at the same time, set up a warp trail for _Voyager_ to follow - a suitable web for a spider to snare her prey.

 

While Chakotay hurried in vain to compensate for the neutralizing effect, Seska spoke to him again. ‘Goodbye, Chakotay. Lovely to see you again.’

 

The Kazon ship went to warp. Chakotay slumped in his chair, crushed by the knowledge that this latest disaster, however indirectly, was his fault.

 

Back on board the Raider, Culluh showed his new toy, which Seska adapted into the Kazon systems, to the Kazon Maje of the Relora sect and his aide, describing it and the other wonders of the Federation ship from so far away. Disregarding the usual antipathy between the Relora and the Nistrim, and calling for their assistance, he suggested dividing the spoils of the vessel, once they succeeded in capturing it.

 

The Relora weren’t amenable. Insulting each other across the conference table, each sect refusing to budge, wasn’t getting them anywhere. Weapons were swiftly drawn. Seska interceded, suggesting they allow the Relora to return to their own ship to consider the offer.   Culluh suggested they use the very technology over which they had been fighting to prove that it worked; therefore its value.

 

The Relora agreed and stepped into the transporter beam.

 

Culluh sent them to materialize in the void of space. The Relora weren’t so powerful or intelligent, after all. They had blindly and willingly walked into their own execution chamber.

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

Seska sat in an alcove contemplating her last words with Chakotay. She had insulted and belittled him before his crew, but she hoped her cutting words would make him angry enough to follow the warp trail she had left for him. She was thinking of him longingly when Culluh sat down beside her.

 

He stared at her for a long moment. Was he contemplating beaming her away as he did the Relora?

 

‘You said the Relora would join us. I should never have listened to you,’ he said shortly.

 

‘I was wrong – I’m sorry,’ she admitted.

 

‘Kazon sects do not help one another.’

 

‘Don’t be so sure about that,’ she said, thinking that this might be the opportunity to tell him of her latest plot. Culluh was easy to manipulate if she could find her way around that temper of his. ‘What did you do to the two men who refused your offer?’

 

‘I killed them,’ he stated matter-of-factly.

 

‘Yes, and by doing that, you sent a message - the Kazon Nistrim are powerful again. First Maje Jal Culluh has technology that no other sect possesses - join with him or suffer the consequences.’

 

He liked the idea. ‘Maybe the mistake was to approach the Relora - they are already strong - but the transporter may be enough to convince the Hobii to join me - and perhaps, the Mostral!’

 

‘Yes! And with a few more ships, you can defeat _Voyager_. And when you have the rest of their technology, the other sects will have no choice but to fall into line. That’s why I sent a subspace message to the Mostral, the Hobii _and_ the Oglamar.’

 

‘You did _what_?’ he asked, taken aback at her audacity.

 

‘I told them about the transporter. Asked them to help us take _Voyager_ ,’ she said innocently.

 

He was in her face in seconds. ‘You have gone too far!’

 

‘I sent the messages in your name,’ she amended smoothly.

 

‘I am the leader of this sect. You - are only a woman.’

 

The son of a bitch. ‘I’m sorry, Culluh,’ she managed.

 

‘You will address me as Maje!’

 

‘Yes, Maje; please forgive me.’ A groveling, subservient attitude was necessary now, although it turned her stomach, but it got results. When he asked how the other sects responded to _his_ request, she knew she had him.

 

‘They’re on their way to join us,’ she said triumphantly.

 

His annoyance forgotten, he launched into a revelation of power and domination. ‘I could do what no one has done since Jal Sancur united the sects to overthrow the Trabe!’

 

‘Yes, Maje.’ She stroked his hand.

 

‘I could have hundreds of ships and thousands of soldiers under my command!’

 

‘ _Yes_ , Maje.’ She stroked his ego.

 

‘I could be the most powerful Kazon in the quadrant!’

 

‘ _Yes, Maje_.’ She stroked his ambition while he kissed the very hand that clutched held him so insidiously.

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE**

Preparations went ahead for the gathering of the sects. Culluh could be a dangerous man if crossed, but if Seska could manipulate him as she had Chakotay, she could make him leader of several sects, and, as his woman, she would rise along with him. _Voyager_ would surely be theirs. It was only a matter of time.

 

‘The Mostral should be here in 20 hours,’ reported Seska. ‘The Hobii in fifteen.’

 

Culluh was scanning at the other console, curious. ‘Come look at this,’ he said. ‘Intermittent EM readings?’

 

She checked the display. ‘I don’t think so - those aren’t normal fluctuations. They’re energy spikes from maneuvering thrusters – probably a shuttle running shadow maneuvers. He knows our scanners can’t pinpoint energy readings that low.’

 

‘Who?’ asked Culluh.

 

She ignored him. ‘Maybe we can resonate a coherent polaron pulse off his hull – get a lock on him that way. Initiate a continuous stream of pulses from the lateral deflectors!’ she ordered the Kazon.

 

When the crewman questioned the order, Culluh nodded impatiently. Whatever Seska had in mind, he had no choice now but to trust her.

 

‘There you are! Open a channel,’ she ordered.

 

‘To whom?!’

 

‘Just transmit on wide band subspace,’ she ordered, impatiently. ‘He’ll hear me.’

 

Culluh complied, wondering why was following her orders so meekly; why he had ever brought such a demanding creature on board his ship. She always questioned him; acting as if she was in charge instead of the other way around. It was infuriating.

 

‘Hello Chakotay. Very clever maneuvering - but I’m not about to let you ruin all my hard work.’ She issued more orders. ‘Deploy a spread of photonic charges centered on coordinates 124 by 217 - twenty percent nominal yield.’

 

‘That won’t be enough.’ Culluh knew who they were after now: that First Officer of Janeway’s. Twenty percent wasn’t enough to destroy that shuttle. Seska should know that.

 

‘We want that shuttle intact,’ she insisted.

 

Once the shuttle was tractored into their main hangar, she sent Culluh and two other crewmen after Chakotay. After Culluh reported him missing, Seska, fuming, ordered him to be found.

 

‘I’m right here!’ yelled Chakotay. The transporter module exploded as Chakotay took aim and fired. He activated a message beacon, carefully approaching Seska, phaser aimed at her face. At the last moment he shifted it in his hand, surrendering.

 

‘Lovely to see you again,’ he said.

 

She snatched the phaser away and ordered two of her henchmen to take Chakotay away.

 

They dragged him, fighting every inch of the way, to a control room. He momentarily threw them both off, but they overpowered him with a cutting blow and latched his hands behind his back. Seska entered behind them.

 

‘You can go,’ she told them.

 

‘I see the Nistrim take orders from you now,’ he wheezed.

 

‘Let’s just say I’m in a position of some influence, which is fortunate for you. Culluh wanted to execute you immediately - but I convinced him that you’d be a valuable prisoner, and that I should be the one to interrogate you.’

 

‘Lucky me.’

 

‘Would you like a drink? The Kazon word for this is _Enemy’s Blood._ It’s not exactly fine cognac but I’ve developed a taste for it. Try some.’

 

‘No, thanks.’

 

‘You know…I’ve got to hand it to you – I thought all these months of answering to Janeway would have made you soft – but all you needed was a little slap in the face to get that Maquis heart of yours beating again. Here’s to old times.’ She held the drink high then bolted it.

 

‘I have no interest in reminiscing with you! I destroyed the transporter module; the game’s over!’

 

‘What do I need with a single transporter module when I’ve got your shuttle and all its technology sitting in our hangar?’

 

‘I think you’ll find that technology useless. I wiped the computer core before I transported.’

 

‘I should have anticipated that.’

 

‘So if you’re going to have me killed, just do it.’

 

‘You’re still the noble one, aren’t you? Ready to die for your shipmates. You know Chakotay I may not have the transporter any more but I’ve got something better… _you_. Maybe that’s all I really wanted.’ She placed her hands on each side of his neck, caressing. ‘l’ve missed you.’

 

‘You can’t possibly believe that you and I could still…’

 

She turned from him, scorned. ‘Don’t flatter yourself! It was never _that_ good. She began pacing furiously back and forth. You might have been an interesting diversion now and then, but I’ve always been less interested in you than in the information you could provide me with. First, you gave me your Maquis secrets, and now I want _Voyager’s_ command codes.’

 

‘If you think I’m going to give you those codes, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.’

 

‘Maybe not, but for old time’s sake, I’ll let you in on a little secret. There are half a dozen ships from other Kazon sects on their way here right now. They’re joining us to help take _Voyager_.’

 

‘Why are you telling me this?’

 

‘I’m not a monster. I still care about Torres and some of the others. I don’t want to see anybody get hurt. I never did.’

 

‘I’m touched.’

 

‘These Kazon aren’t as reasonable as you and I. I’m going to have to use all my influence to make sure they don’t kill you all, but you’ve got to give me something to work with!’

 

He turned away from her insistent caresses. ‘Voyager’s not coming. I left them explicit instructions _not_ to follow me. So you can stop worrying about people getting hurt!’

 

‘They’ll come!’ she said, infuriated. ‘They’d never leave their First Officer in the hands of the Kazon! You may not give me the command codes, but when Culluh gets through with you, you’ll wish you had!’

 

‘Seska.’

 

She had turned to leave but halted when he called her name. ‘Have you changed your mind?’

 

‘I once told you a story about my people – how we were betrayed. Remember? You betrayed me too, didn’t you, Seska?’

 

‘You talk about betrayal! You betrayed your own Federation!’

 

‘That was different.’

 

‘Was it?’

 

‘Yes. It was.’ He stared at her contemptuously.

 

‘Prepare yourself, Chakotay. Pray to your animal guide. Ask it for strength. Culluh is on his way.’ Seska stalked out, blood boiling. After finally convincing Culluh to allow her to interrogate Chakotay, after pleading, cajoling and finally threatening him, he still would not cooperate. Her Maje would be displeased with her failure.

 

‘Well?’ he asked when she entered the bridge.

 

‘He wouldn’t talk.’

 

‘I thought you said he would respond to you. You assured me that you could persuade him!’

 

‘He’s being stubborn.’

 

‘You’re not as attractive now as you were before. I’m willing to bet he’s repelled by you,’ Culluh sneered.

 

Seska, deeply hurt, gave no indication of that fact. ‘If you think you can do better,’ she shot back, ‘then go ahead and try!’

 

‘Oh - be assured. It will give me the greatest pleasure to get those command codes out of him. My method of persuasion will get results quicker than yours ever could.’ Gripping her face in one knarled hand, he moved in close. ‘Come with me. Observe my tactics. You may learn something.’ Taking her arm, he propelled her ahead of him. Several other Kazon accompanied them down the narrow corridor.

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO**

 

Chakotay still stood braced against the bulkhead where Seska had left him. Culluh motioned the others to lash him to a chair. Seska watched in trepidation as he pulled on thick leather gloves. She didn’t really want this to happen. If only he had listened to her -

 

Chakotay, tightly secured, tensed his muscles for the coming ordeal. Culluh didn’t keep him waiting.

 

He bore over an hour of harsh blows to his face, chest and abdomen. Each time the demand came for the command codes to Voyager, he shook his head.

 

‘I’m losing patience, Federation,’ said Culluh.

 

‘Just tell him what he needs to know,’ Seska pleaded.

 

Chakotay would not be broken. Instead, he jeered at Culluh. ‘She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?’ he queried, blood pouring down his face. ‘Does she rub your shoulders… and tell you you’re the most exciting man she’s ever known? That’s what she used to do for me.’

 

Culluh shot a sidelong glance at Seska. Her altered, strangely scaled face told him nothing. Why would this man say such a thing? What was hidden behind that reptilian face that he didn’t know?

 

‘What’s the matter? Didn’t she tell you about us?!’ queried Chakotay.

 

Culluh ignored him, focusing on getting the codes. He would certainly demand an explanation from Seska later, but for now he wanted _Voyager_ , and this creature in the strange suit had the information he needed to obtain it.

 

‘Stop playing games,’ he ordered, ‘and give me the command codes’

 

Chakotay persisted. ‘Flattery, devotion, sex – I always thought she had a lot to offer a man…’

 

‘You talk too much, _Federation_ , but you’re not telling me what I need to know.’

 

‘You’re wrong, Culluh! I’m telling you _exactly_ what you need to know! She’s using you!’

 

‘I’m the one who’s using _her_ ,’ Culluh countered.

 

Chakotay laughed, despite the pain. He glanced up at Seska. ‘You’ve done an even better job on him than you did on me!’

 

Culluh’s patience was wearing thin. ‘You talk to _me,_ not to her!’

 

‘Then what’s she doing here, watching you _work_?!’ Chakotay shouted. ‘She used to like to watch _me_ work too!’

 

‘I don’t believe a word you’re saying so you can stop trying to distract me now and start answering questions!’ demanded Culluh.

 

Chakotay blearily gazed at his tormentor. ‘You know one thing I especially liked? That little mole on her stomach…’ Culluh backhanded Chakotay across the cheek. ‘…I guess you’ve seen it,’ he mumbled.

 

Culluh, incensed, said, ‘I’m through wasting my strength on you.’ He motioned to his crewman, who shot serum into Chakotay’s neck. Seska watched Chakotay’s eyes as they dilated from effects of the drug. He could barely hold his head up. Surely now he spit forth the codes to save his own life.

 

‘Now, give me the command codes,’ insisted Culluh.

 

With effort, Chakotay roused himself. ‘I’ll give you something better.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘First hand information.’

 

‘Go ahead.’

 

‘When Seska’s through with you - she’s gonna kill you,’ he said, laughing.

 

‘He’s delirious. He doesn’t know what he’s saying,’ said Seska, barely containing her rage as Culluh pounded Chakotay a final time. ‘Give him some time.’ This then, was the depth of his feeling for her. This, then, was truly the end. Culluh, realizing the futility of beating Chakotay senseless, told her he would return in an hour. ‘For his sake, he’d better be more cooperative.’

 

As Chakotay writhed in pain, Seska retrieved an empty syringe.

 

‘Very clever ploy, Chakotay, but you know I’m not a killer,’ she said as she jammed the massive needle deep into his neck. ‘If I were,’ she continued, slowly withdrawing the syringe loaded with blood and tissue, ‘you’d have been dead a long time ago.’   She caressed him one last time and walked out the door without looking back.

 

Captain Janeway soon outwitted the Kazon, retrieving Chakotay. The other Kazon sects, which Maje Culluh had so hoped to unite, deserted him. Seska, now fully restored now to her Cardassian physiology, sent an automated message beacon to _Voyager_ , for Chakotay, before the Kazon ship went to warp.

 

‘Hello Chakotay,’ said the recording. ‘Congratulations on your victory. I look forward to our next meeting. Oh, and there’s something you should know…while you were unconscious, I took the liberty of extracting a sample of your DNA. I impregnated myself with it. So, I guess more congratulations are in order. You’re going to be a father.’ 66

 

**CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE**

**_THE PRESENT -_ ** ** Stardate 2371 **

****

Seska once again reviewed the Maquis plan of attack which had so displeased Maje Culluh. Perhaps he was right; it did lack a certain cohesion. At any rate, without the Maje backing her up, it was sure to fail. Idly, she tapped in commands, reorganizing the strike. This maneuver wouldn’t work at all. That maneuver wasn’t feasible. Chakotay wasn’t stupid enough to fall for the other, not after what they had recently been through. _Damn_! It was difficult to concentrate with Chakotay alive in her mind. She had been so certain he would come back to her. He hadn’t. Ever.

 

While in the Maquis, his only explanation had been that he could not maintain their relationship and properly Captain the _Liberty_. Perhaps that was true. He hadn’t let anyone else get close, not even B’Elanna, despite her obvious attraction to him. He had remained unapproachable - that is, until Janeway. Chakotay followed her around, obeying her every command, loyal as a lap dog. From the time Seska began observing the two of them, however, Janeway didn’t seem all that interested. And, as he had been reduced to second in command, Seska hoped she and he could resume their relationship. He had refused. Her pride was wounded; her ego badly bruised. Did Janeway so rigidly rule the private lives of those under her command that he dared not oppose her? Was he going to let a woman rule his life? What was wrong with him?

 

One part of her mind kept working, trying out various scenarios while memories of the first year the Maquis had spent trapped on _Voyager_ kept trickling through. All the Maquis, but particularly Torres, once her closest friend, had been incensed to be once more on a Federation starship, having to follow Janeway’s orders.   However, little by little, the crew acquiesced. All of them…except her. She had felt abandoned; by the Maquis, by Chakotay. Her one last subtle maneuver toward Chakotay told her that her days on _Voyager_ were numbered. That he would threaten to throw her in the brig, simply for bringing him fresh soup, showed the level of his lack of feeling for her. The Cardassian blood in her veins beat more strongly after that, as if the Bajoran guise was fading and the effects of the altering surgery were reversing. So…she had begun a new agenda - a mission of her own, in no way connected to Gul Marratt’s - a scheme to oust Janeway and garner allies in this unknown part of the galaxy, which had ensnared her along with the rest of them. Then Chakotay had turned on her and Janeway hadn’t wanted to listen to reason. Torres and the rest of them had embraced Starfleet; with the exception of Michael Jonas, whose acceptance was merely a veneer. Beneath, he was still Maquis; still amenable to doing things the old way. Suder could have been useful to her, but he was locked down. It was up to just the two of them - her and Jonas. What strange bedfellows they turned out to be! Jonas had pined for Seska from the first time they met, but she had resisted. She had turned him away in favor of Chakotay. Yet Mike had remained her loyal friend.

 

Now, by necessity, the two of them had been thrown together for the same purpose: he on _Voyager_ to sabotage it, and she on the Kazon Nistrim ship, planning to take _Voyager_! She would have Culluh annihilate them, all but Jonas and Suder. Suder would be an asset to any force. But, no…she still cared for Torres and a few of the others – Ayala – maybe Chell. Bendera was Chakotay’s best friend; he’d be spared. Hogan was no trouble. She’d see that they were left on some habitable planet - all except Chakotay. She would keep him for a personal pet once she had her hands on that ship. He would be with her again. What choice would he have, that or death?

 

She would show him, indeed. It was a matter of time. Only a matter of time. Perhaps, after his baby was born…

 

_Chakotay’s baby_. She bit her lip, surprised at the simplicity of the idea that had just occurred to her, swiftly and unexpectedly, as all good ideas do. Here was a plan that would lead Chakotay right to them, and which would enable the Kazon to capture _Voyager_. Culluh would have all the technology he needed to rule the entire sector of this quadrant, and he would owe it all to her. He would be putty in her hands, easy to manipulate. She would become more and more powerful. She could rule the entire Nistrim sect…and with _Voyage_ r’s technology, she could take on all the other Kazon sects, uniting them - and ruling absolute over a major part of this quadrant. She could have Culluh’s head on a platter if she wished.

 

The scheme built in her mind. With just a little refining, it would work.

 

Resolutely, Seska turned off the console. She passed a gentle hand over the small mound in her belly that was Chakotay’s baby. Not even born yet, and already a warrior. With its help, manipulating him and Janeway would be easy. Confidently, smiling to herself, she left the room to seek out Maje Culluh.

 

The End

 

 

** REFERENCES: **

1

| 

2371

| 

Stardate referenced from:   <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Seska>  
  
---|---|---  
  
2

| 

Liberty

| 

Although many references list Chakotay’s ship as the _Val Jean_ , Jeri Taylor’s _Pathways_ lists it as the _Liberty:   Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 64  
  
3

| 

2369

| 

Stardate referenced from:   <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Seska>  
  
4

| 

Kattell

| 

_ST:V:_ State of Flux: I gave Seska this Cardassian name; it seemed logical. _Seska: ‘A childhood virus that swept through the Bajoran work camps during the occupation. Thousands of children didn't survive. I did, thanks to a bone marrow transplant from a sympathetic Cardassian woman. Her name was Kattell. When we get home, you can ask her yourself.’_  
  
5

| 

Obsidian Order

| 

Cardassian Intelligence Agency:   http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Obsidian_Order  
  
6

| 

Gul / Gil

| 

Military positions within the Cardassian martial forces; Gil being the lesser.   http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Gul  
  
7

| 

Marratt

| 

May not follow strict canon, but I needed a less familiar name. <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Marratt>  
  
8

| 

Galor Class

| 

Cardassian warship: <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Galor_class>  
  
9

| 

Savage, Federation-born killers

| 

Cardassians portrayed Maquis as savage, Federation-born killers. <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Maquis>  
  
10

| 

Psykomentic

| 

I made this one up. =;)  
  
11

| 

Cardassian DNA

| 

_ST:V:_ State of Flux: What the Doctor found in Seska.  
  
12

| 

Distended and shiny

| 

A sign of Cardassian aggressiveness: _Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 174  
  
13

| 

Earring

| 

Elaborate piece of jewlery traditionally worn on the right ear as a symbol of Bajoran faith. <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Bajoran_earring>  
  
14

| 

Skin her like a Bolian

| 

Practiced by Cardassians:   Bolian hide is prized by them. _Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 176  
  
15

| 

Dahkur

| 

A major city on Bajor, located in the [Dahkur Province](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Dahkur_Province); seat of the [Kai](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Kai). http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Dahkur  
  
16

| 

Bajoran names

| 

Personal, or given name comes last. <http://www.shakaar.demon.co.uk/archive/intel/guide.htm>  
  
17

| 

Laren

| 

Ro Laren may not have been on Bajor as a Maquis during this time period, but it suited my purpose.  
  
18

| 

Credits

| 

I could find no reference to Bajoran money and a bar of latinum would be extortion; hence simply _credits._  
  
19

| 

Poluku

| 

Bajoran arachnid lifeform common on many of the Bajoran moons.   Edible when cooked.    <http://www.shakaar.demon.co.uk/archive/encyc/sect10.htm>  
  
20

| 

Five kilometers

| 

A little over three miles.   <http://www.metric-conversions.org/length/kilometers-to-miles.htm>  
  
21

| 

Tolerated heat

| 

Cardassians prefer hot environments. [http://fsgsims.com/startrek-pretoria/~ruan_g/alienspecies/species_e-f.html](http://fsgsims.com/startrek--pretoria/~ruan_g/alienspecies/species_e-f.html)  
  
22

| 

Saloon

| 

One thing that seemed to have proliferated and thrived on Bajor was the saloons. _Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 59  
  
23

| 

Oo-sa deet-sa

| 

Phoneticized Russian. <http://www.livelaughlovelearn.com/gloss/dict.pl>  
  
24

| 

Standard dialect

| 

UFP standard language (probably English). <http://www.pinette.net/chris/startrek/klinaase.html>  
  
25

| 

Sveta

| 

Sveta Korepanova from Ekaterinburg, Russia. _Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 35  
  
26

| 

petaQ

| 

Klingon insult <http://www.geocities.com/Athens/8853/curse.html>  
  
27

| 

Would not kill him

| 

Chakotay would not sink to the level of Cardassians. _Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 66  
  
28

| 

black market

| 

Federation colonists banded together into underground paramilitary cells, and began acquiring weapons of their own through the black market the black market.   <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Maquis>  
  
29

| 

Treaty of 2370

| 

Some Federation colonies were ceded to the [Cardassian Union](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Cardassian_Union) by the [Treaty of 2370](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Federation-Cardassian_Treaty). <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Maquis> \- also _Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 57  
  
30

| 

Spiritual, peaceful people

| 

Cardassians were once peaceful and spiritual. _The Star Trek Encyclopedia_ , pp. 64  
  
31

| 

Cause to live

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 61  
  
32

| 

Thermalite weapons

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 63  
  
33

| 

First year

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 35  
  
34

| 

Small raider

| 

Type of light starship commonly used against the Cardassians by the Maquis. <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Maquis_raider>  
  
35

| 

Trebus

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 41  
  
36

| 

Amphitheater

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 65  
  
37

| 

Raging lust

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 66  
  
38

| 

Nearly 40 years old

| 

_ST:V:_ Caretaker: B’Elanna: ‘How am I supposed to be creative with a 39-year-old engine?’  
  
39

| 

Badlands

| 

Area of space permeated by plasma storms; a haven for the Maquis. [http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Badlands](http://memory--alpha.org/en/wiki/Badlands)  
  
40

| 

The sisters are dancing tonight

| 

Pathways by Jeri Taylor, pp. 55  
  
41

| 

Demilitarized zone

| 

The Demilitarized Zone (sometimes referred to as the DMZ) was a buffer zone established between the [United Federation of Planets](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/United_Federation_of_Planets) and the [Cardassian Union](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Cardassian_Union), by the terms of the [Federation-Cardassian Treaty](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Federation-Cardassian_Treaty) of [2370](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/2370) <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Demilitarized_zone>  
  
42

| 

Lissepians

| 

At the same time, the Central Command secretly began arming their own colonists on the Demilitarized Zone. By shipping the weapons through intermediaries such as the [Lissepians](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Lissepian), they managed to avoid the attention of Starfleet. <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Maquis>  
  
43

| 

Interrogate

| 

_ST:V:_ Maneuvers: Seska enjoyed watching Chakotay work.  
  
44

| 

not a murderer

| 

While Jeri Taylor indicates that he was, I chose not to.   _Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 54  
  
45

| 

Delight in the sheer act of killing

| 

_ST:V:_ Meld:   Lon Suder  
  
46

| 

Cardassian interest in Chakotay

| 

The Cardassians were also interested in Chakotay. <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Maquis>  
  
47

| 

Photon grenade

| 

Short-range, variable-yield explosive devices. <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Photon_grenade>  
  
48

| 

brown blood

| 

Cardassians have brown blood. <http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Blood>  
  
49

| 

Jackson

| 

_ST:V:_ State of Flux: Together with Seska, this unseen Maquis crewman raided the food supply.  
  
50

| 

Runabout

| 

Starfleet vessel smaller than a [starship](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Starship) but larger than a [shuttlecraft](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Shuttlecraft).   h[ttp://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Runabout](http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Runabout)  
  
51

| 

Nephrus snake

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 68  
  
52

| 

Fifteen

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 66  
  
53

| 

Daze

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 73  
  
54

| 

Affair

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 74  
  
55

| 

Mesler

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 172  
  
56

| 

Engineer

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 183  
  
57

| 

Tom Paris

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 185  
  
58

| 

Tuvok

| 

_Pathways_ by Jeri Taylor, pp. 196  
  
59

| 

Massive coherent tetryon beam

| 

_ST:V:_ Caretaker  
  
60

| 

Gold, oblong pin with a slanted bar within it

| 

Maquis Provisional Rank Insignia on board _Voyager._<http://www.loony-archivist.com/lowerdecks/rank.html>  
  
61

| 

breathed a sigh of relief

| 

_ST:V:_ Maneuvers  
  
62-63

| 

Direct quotes from episode

| 

_ST:V:_ State of Flux  
  
64

| 

Computer Command XJL

| 

_ST:V:_ State of Flux  
  
65-66

| 

Direct quotes from episode

| 

_ST:V:_ Maneuvers  
  
 

 

 


End file.
